The bitter cold was held back by thick wooden doors. An older woman sat upon a rickety stool, whose legs strained on the stone beneath them, with the whisper of wurring and a fresh yarn pooling.
Wool, pull the wool over their eyes, let them become tired and cozy, close their eyes to whatever else you might be doing, because sometimes being out of their comfort zone is better than being out of sight.
I look at the wool coat hanging in my closet. It’s white, like pure light and dandylion puff. I haven’t worn it yet. It belonged to my mom, and it means too much to me. Everything I touch falls to ruins, and I won’t give my chance to ruin this too.
I look down at the soft wool coat hanging in my closet. It’s been there for years, but I don’t think I’m ever gonna wear it. There’s never been a right time, and I’m afraid of ruining it, like with everything I touch. The coat means tooo muich to me, and I don’t think I will give myself the chance to ruin it.
Rose valkenburg
“He pulled the wool right over her eyes,” his friend said, while laughing and drinking beer. “He said that he made a certain salary, but it was really twice as much. He gave half to her for safekeeping and drank away the rest.” “And now we’re at his funeral. Whose wool got pulled over whose eyes?”
The bitter cold was held back by thick wooden doors. An older woman sat upon a rickety stool, whose legs strained on the stone beneath them, with the whisper of wurring and a fresh yarn pooling.
Wool, pull the wool over their eyes, let them become tired and cozy, close their eyes to whatever else you might be doing, because sometimes being out of their comfort zone is better than being out of sight.
I look at the wool coat hanging in my closet. It’s white, like pure light and dandylion puff. I haven’t worn it yet. It belonged to my mom, and it means too much to me. Everything I touch falls to ruins, and I won’t give my chance to ruin this too.
I look down at the soft wool coat hanging in my closet. It’s been there for years, but I don’t think I’m ever gonna wear it. There’s never been a right time, and I’m afraid of ruining it, like with everything I touch. The coat means tooo muich to me, and I don’t think I will give myself the chance to ruin it.
“He pulled the wool right over her eyes,” his friend said, while laughing and drinking beer. “He said that he made a certain salary, but it was really twice as much. He gave half to her for safekeeping and drank away the rest.” “And now we’re at his funeral. Whose wool got pulled over whose eyes?”