complilation like in the 80s movies where all their weight gets lost at once. yeah like an exercise montage! why cant those really happen? i hate my body, but i dont want to have to work to get a better one. laziness. story of my life. story of america really.
A montage of images flashes before my eyes. Is this death, or just reflection? I gather the pictures in my mind, marveling at their beauty. Life is a montage, a beautifully chaotic mash-up of different emotions, thoughts, experiences, and images.
the montage of the nile was something that she did not like to look at. Then she thought, what the hell. Montage? What the fuck does that even mean at this point? She did not know. She stood, under the street light, smoking her last cigeratte for the day. She did not know from one point to another what she was going to do, much less, give a shit about no montage. Hm.
a montage of life, of love: a purple pen and things that are red and posters of black and white figures and starry nights, and injokes about nothing that mean everything.
The silly montage reminded her of what she could have experienced in high school if perhaps she had been more interested in what everyone was wearing and saying instead of what people had written and said and done and created. However it also reminded her of the small but bright happiness brought on by an 80’s movie.
Montage of memories and pictures of two little twins. Won the hearts of anorexics and vicarious interested parties everywhere on the internet.
But then grew disillusioned with the fame too persistent.
Lovely always.
I like montages of pictures, they usually look extremely professional, but when I try making a montage it looks horrible, as if a child made it. I want to posses the skill of the montage so badly! Allas, I do not posses it :(
The images swirl so quickly that I’m gonna puke. I do puke but the puke is made of orange dye. I am full of the orange dye. It is swishing around inside me as I lurch around, it sprays out of my mouth as I fall to the ground and try to close my eyes, hoping it will stop, but my eyes stay open, forever open
What does that even mean? It’s familiar. But I don’t even know. My life sucks. Mon. Tage. Wat. I- don’t even. I feel like a complete idiot. Really. Montage. This is going to haunt me.
Words,Memories,Expectations flutter through my brain.There has to be something better then this;some other place some paradise that I’m missing out on.My life has become a montage of pain and lies.
don’t really know hat it is.. but i feel like it belongs in a silent film. like someone is on a mission. like there should be montage music thats like da nu da nu da nu da nu like mission impossible 3
I like to think of a music montage which are the best kinds. Also I think of funerals because they have montages of pictures of the person that died…..
My life is a blur; dreams and reality are the same to me. I don’t remember much of my past. I prefer it that way, really. When reality hurts too much to think of, it’s best left unthought of.
When I do remember, it comes back to me in montages. I once remembered when I was three, lying down under that small blue kiddie pool with my four siblings, your four other children, hiding from you. I remember how the little fishies would float across our sky. I wasn’t scared, under that pool. I wasn’t scared until I was with you.
I was too young; you should’ve known better. I deserved much more than you gave me. Do you think it was justified, how you left us to fend for ourselves out there in the cold confines of our garage? Did you think it was fine to leave us, only ages three to ten, to feed ourselves?
We weren’t capable of being our own mother. It doesn’t work like that; that isn’t reality. You wonder what ever made us leave you. You wonder why we still hold this grudge, even thirteen years later.
Every year, a photo and video montage is created of our year in Phi Mu. The good times, the bad times, and the wild times. You forget how good you’ve got it until you look back on each and every memory. Memories…. that’s what life is about. It’s what you remember. Those little moments…
I think sometimes i look at my life in a short moment. I hate the expression “Time went by so fast” because it really doesn’t. The length of a second never changes. What we remember are the single moments that stand out to us in our memory over a given time. They mean the most.
nooooooo i dont wanna do mantage again, i quit, i dont wanna write about montage, i wanna write about birs or stuff like that, or not? woud i like to write about cocodriles? or a filthy murderer on a filthy alley full of beautiful but as well filthy flowers?
suddenly a bunch of models started appearing from the backstage saying that there was a giant cat attacking the backyard of the hotel where they were sating, as soon as they said that a secret agent came out of nowhere shouting that the montage was set
I see a montage of difficult work layed around me. Am I pissed about it? Am I procrastinating now? Yes, and most definitely yes. But hey, isn’t life just one big montage of difficult tasks thrown about? To some extent, I suppose.
Montage reminds me of photography class. We made a montage as a project this year and mine was pretty cool. Too bad it was overcast the day I took it. I took mine of the archway at Cox Arboretum. I wish that the leaves had grown in by that time though. It was hard to put together but it was worth it. Its hanging in my room now.
first like ray lamontagne the montage the montage the montagen montagnya YA and I haven’t won de tickets yet but I will i will will i will i I WIll I will tomorrow tomorrow i love ya tomorrow it’s always a perfect daaaaaay
the sun will come out montate like Heidi Montage some celebrity like t
montage. wow. honestly i dont know what this is and i now i should cause i remember my 7th grade teacher telling us about them… but i hate to tell you. i dont have a perfect memory. like most people on this world dont. and now i think that ive probably made quite a few spelling errors cause whenenever i have limited time i make spelling mistakes and only look at the keys:/
Its that part of a movie when you get inspirational music and footage of a person working hard. Training, learning, getting stronger. They learn to walk, paint, run, ride a bike or bake a cake. It is growth.
A montage of music notes and leaves swirl up in an intricate dance of hope and sunny days into the crystal clear summer sky, blue like a set of eyes I just can’t forget.
The montage of events swept through her head like a wave of inspiration. She can do it. Nothing can stop her. She has the concentration, the dedication. She can..she WILL succeed. That one montage changed her positivity, the way she thought about life and all other things in the world. She had a beautiful new optimistic view of the life around her.
They say when you die, a montage of your life passes before your eyes. The only thing I hope is that I don’t regret everything I see. I know that I haven’t lived my life to the best of my ability, but I would like to think that I’ve lived a good enough life that I don’t hate it.
colorful. waves. splashes. confetti. icing. spice. eruption. explosion. orgasmic. of course. pink and purple just for today. lace and feathers. sparkles. Yes sparkles. Joy and buttons maybe too. In jars. Colorful doilies. hues. Orange. Marigold.
I had a montage at my bat mitzvah. It featured many adorable pictures of Baby Nina. I also loved the montage scene in The Sweetest Things, with all of the costumes, and I guess I like montages like that in general, because they are always fun to watch. But for a while I didn’t realize the word montage could be used in any other sense other than B’Nai Mitzvot.
photo montages break up the world, they showcase what we see in new strange ways. sticking and glueing you get smelly fingers. David Hockey man. Its nearly French for mountain.
i have no idea what this word is, but if i could give it a meaning it would be a theatrical one. you know? like the montage of the play, or something. probably a word for that already exists but i dont care, i still like it that way. plus it has a really nice ring to it . you know?
MONTAGE
A photograph. Her hand is soft and not yet used to the rough sands of the beach and the hot-breathed sun. He takes her hand and pulls her to the water, her pink floppy hat flipping into the salt-core water, and almost pulling her little sunglasses with it.
Worn proudly. Cascading through the crowd like a 1920s showgirl. Flash. It’s over. You’ve become something else that suddenly becomes you. Bringing life through new life. Reincarnating the past and the future flashed as one mecca.
I watched the montage of my life flutter before my eyes, like a thousand butterflies, and wondered what the point of it all had been. ‘But it doesn’t have to have a point’, the voice said. ‘It was your life, and it’s over, and we’re showing it to you. That’s what happens’.
‘Is that all death is, then?’ I asked. ‘A montage?’ The voice was silent. “Can’t you do a little better?’
‘Well, if you’ve got so many complaints, perhaps you’d like it better downstairs, hmm?’
a montage of endless photographs, running through her eyes. i couldn’t see them. i only saw a river, a tree, a cloud, a deer. i remember her. she sang in the middle of the mountain, the snow under her feet. her voice hunts me. i wonder where she is now. i remember her.
There she goes. Far away… where I’ll probably never see her again. Although, you may think it’s upsetting to see her go this way, to me, it’s really not. A montage of memories of her leaving fill my head again that day and I know I cannot carry on.
Montage is a lovely word. It rolls off the tongue and reminds one of paintings and art and the color green. The green that comes from a tree in summer all the different shades creating a lovely world of color.
complilation like in the 80s movies where all their weight gets lost at once. yeah like an exercise montage! why cant those really happen? i hate my body, but i dont want to have to work to get a better one. laziness. story of my life. story of america really.
A montage of images flashes before my eyes. Is this death, or just reflection? I gather the pictures in my mind, marveling at their beauty. Life is a montage, a beautifully chaotic mash-up of different emotions, thoughts, experiences, and images.
the montage of the nile was something that she did not like to look at. Then she thought, what the hell. Montage? What the fuck does that even mean at this point? She did not know. She stood, under the street light, smoking her last cigeratte for the day. She did not know from one point to another what she was going to do, much less, give a shit about no montage. Hm.
a montage of life, of love: a purple pen and things that are red and posters of black and white figures and starry nights, and injokes about nothing that mean everything.
The silly montage reminded her of what she could have experienced in high school if perhaps she had been more interested in what everyone was wearing and saying instead of what people had written and said and done and created. However it also reminded her of the small but bright happiness brought on by an 80’s movie.
Montage of memories and pictures of two little twins. Won the hearts of anorexics and vicarious interested parties everywhere on the internet.
But then grew disillusioned with the fame too persistent.
Lovely always.
I like montages of pictures, they usually look extremely professional, but when I try making a montage it looks horrible, as if a child made it. I want to posses the skill of the montage so badly! Allas, I do not posses it :(
The images swirl so quickly that I’m gonna puke. I do puke but the puke is made of orange dye. I am full of the orange dye. It is swishing around inside me as I lurch around, it sprays out of my mouth as I fall to the ground and try to close my eyes, hoping it will stop, but my eyes stay open, forever open
photo montage
What does that even mean? It’s familiar. But I don’t even know. My life sucks. Mon. Tage. Wat. I- don’t even. I feel like a complete idiot. Really. Montage. This is going to haunt me.
Words,Memories,Expectations flutter through my brain.There has to be something better then this;some other place some paradise that I’m missing out on.My life has become a montage of pain and lies.
don’t really know hat it is.. but i feel like it belongs in a silent film. like someone is on a mission. like there should be montage music thats like da nu da nu da nu da nu like mission impossible 3
I like to think of a music montage which are the best kinds. Also I think of funerals because they have montages of pictures of the person that died…..
i love montages there so cool!!! I suck at typing!
My life is a blur; dreams and reality are the same to me. I don’t remember much of my past. I prefer it that way, really. When reality hurts too much to think of, it’s best left unthought of.
When I do remember, it comes back to me in montages. I once remembered when I was three, lying down under that small blue kiddie pool with my four siblings, your four other children, hiding from you. I remember how the little fishies would float across our sky. I wasn’t scared, under that pool. I wasn’t scared until I was with you.
I was too young; you should’ve known better. I deserved much more than you gave me. Do you think it was justified, how you left us to fend for ourselves out there in the cold confines of our garage? Did you think it was fine to leave us, only ages three to ten, to feed ourselves?
We weren’t capable of being our own mother. It doesn’t work like that; that isn’t reality. You wonder what ever made us leave you. You wonder why we still hold this grudge, even thirteen years later.
No wonder I can’t even remember your name.
Every year, a photo and video montage is created of our year in Phi Mu. The good times, the bad times, and the wild times. You forget how good you’ve got it until you look back on each and every memory. Memories…. that’s what life is about. It’s what you remember. Those little moments…
road trip
I think sometimes i look at my life in a short moment. I hate the expression “Time went by so fast” because it really doesn’t. The length of a second never changes. What we remember are the single moments that stand out to us in our memory over a given time. They mean the most.
nooooooo i dont wanna do mantage again, i quit, i dont wanna write about montage, i wanna write about birs or stuff like that, or not? woud i like to write about cocodriles? or a filthy murderer on a filthy alley full of beautiful but as well filthy flowers?
suddenly a bunch of models started appearing from the backstage saying that there was a giant cat attacking the backyard of the hotel where they were sating, as soon as they said that a secret agent came out of nowhere shouting that the montage was set
I see a montage of difficult work layed around me. Am I pissed about it? Am I procrastinating now? Yes, and most definitely yes. But hey, isn’t life just one big montage of difficult tasks thrown about? To some extent, I suppose.
Montage reminds me of photography class. We made a montage as a project this year and mine was pretty cool. Too bad it was overcast the day I took it. I took mine of the archway at Cox Arboretum. I wish that the leaves had grown in by that time though. It was hard to put together but it was worth it. Its hanging in my room now.
first like ray lamontagne the montage the montage the montagen montagnya YA and I haven’t won de tickets yet but I will i will will i will i I WIll I will tomorrow tomorrow i love ya tomorrow it’s always a perfect daaaaaay
the sun will come out montate like Heidi Montage some celebrity like t
montage. wow. honestly i dont know what this is and i now i should cause i remember my 7th grade teacher telling us about them… but i hate to tell you. i dont have a perfect memory. like most people on this world dont. and now i think that ive probably made quite a few spelling errors cause whenenever i have limited time i make spelling mistakes and only look at the keys:/
Its that part of a movie when you get inspirational music and footage of a person working hard. Training, learning, getting stronger. They learn to walk, paint, run, ride a bike or bake a cake. It is growth.
The day went by like one long montage… all I was able to focus on was his smile while music played in the back of my mind.
A montage of music notes and leaves swirl up in an intricate dance of hope and sunny days into the crystal clear summer sky, blue like a set of eyes I just can’t forget.
The montage of events swept through her head like a wave of inspiration. She can do it. Nothing can stop her. She has the concentration, the dedication. She can..she WILL succeed. That one montage changed her positivity, the way she thought about life and all other things in the world. She had a beautiful new optimistic view of the life around her.
They say when you die, a montage of your life passes before your eyes. The only thing I hope is that I don’t regret everything I see. I know that I haven’t lived my life to the best of my ability, but I would like to think that I’ve lived a good enough life that I don’t hate it.
colorful. waves. splashes. confetti. icing. spice. eruption. explosion. orgasmic. of course. pink and purple just for today. lace and feathers. sparkles. Yes sparkles. Joy and buttons maybe too. In jars. Colorful doilies. hues. Orange. Marigold.
I had a montage at my bat mitzvah. It featured many adorable pictures of Baby Nina. I also loved the montage scene in The Sweetest Things, with all of the costumes, and I guess I like montages like that in general, because they are always fun to watch. But for a while I didn’t realize the word montage could be used in any other sense other than B’Nai Mitzvot.
photo montages break up the world, they showcase what we see in new strange ways. sticking and glueing you get smelly fingers. David Hockey man. Its nearly French for mountain.
the end of disney movies, lots of pictures sharing a story a bout someones life. a different wat to tell a story
i have no idea what this word is, but if i could give it a meaning it would be a theatrical one. you know? like the montage of the play, or something. probably a word for that already exists but i dont care, i still like it that way. plus it has a really nice ring to it . you know?
MONTAGE
A photograph. Her hand is soft and not yet used to the rough sands of the beach and the hot-breathed sun. He takes her hand and pulls her to the water, her pink floppy hat flipping into the salt-core water, and almost pulling her little sunglasses with it.
Worn proudly. Cascading through the crowd like a 1920s showgirl. Flash. It’s over. You’ve become something else that suddenly becomes you. Bringing life through new life. Reincarnating the past and the future flashed as one mecca.
I watched the montage of my life flutter before my eyes, like a thousand butterflies, and wondered what the point of it all had been. ‘But it doesn’t have to have a point’, the voice said. ‘It was your life, and it’s over, and we’re showing it to you. That’s what happens’.
‘Is that all death is, then?’ I asked. ‘A montage?’ The voice was silent. “Can’t you do a little better?’
‘Well, if you’ve got so many complaints, perhaps you’d like it better downstairs, hmm?’
a montage of endless photographs, running through her eyes. i couldn’t see them. i only saw a river, a tree, a cloud, a deer. i remember her. she sang in the middle of the mountain, the snow under her feet. her voice hunts me. i wonder where she is now. i remember her.
There she goes. Far away… where I’ll probably never see her again. Although, you may think it’s upsetting to see her go this way, to me, it’s really not. A montage of memories of her leaving fill my head again that day and I know I cannot carry on.
Montage is a lovely word. It rolls off the tongue and reminds one of paintings and art and the color green. The green that comes from a tree in summer all the different shades creating a lovely world of color.