AdriTheDreamer
Subside the anger, put away the envy, and stay away from the annoyance. Smile, nod, and receiving items with both hands.
Do not fret, and do not say things that can mean anything. Do not let a lie snowball.
Because you should be kind.
Because you should be kind to everyone.
This creek flows swift. Quick. And dangerous it looks. The little sounds of the water hitting the rocks multiplies.
I want to cross this.
I look at the long wooden plank next to me. Should I trust it?
And I do.
And as I stand on the other side of the shore, I look back. And that flat wood is where I have first saw it.
Maybe I never needed it all along.
if I say the air is like how the famous songwriter has described – salty, rusty, and with whispers of words, would you be surprised?
but it is summer. and I do not want this to end. it feels so real each time I breath.
let us close our eyes and pretend that we are never leaving this place.
I looked at the clues in front of me, and I have no idea what was the connection. Some photos, some names, but I could not figure out what really happened.
The sound of water dripping down kept reminding me to be faster. To figure it out. Because there was barely any time left before the clock runs out.
We more or less count the duration of the moon circuating around the Earth. The moon goes through phases; and when it comes a full evolution, one month is more or less passed.
Who defined it?
Who defined "time"?
It surely do exist — we feel it ourselves.
But who said we need to calculate it the way we do?
Well, the "why" does not really matter that much. We seem to be happy with the way.
She stood on the stage in her best dress. This was a once-in-a-lifetime moment.
Was she anxious? Of course she was.
She did prepare well for this competition. Everything else was left for fate to decide.
The spotlights turned on, and the rest was dim. She was now the centre of attention.
"Now," the judges said, "is your time to shine."
Jacob had no particular destination today. He saw the hill, and decided to climb it. At first there was stairs, neatly paved with cement, but then the path slowly turned muddy.
He wandered in the suburban woods. Not really far from the city; he can occasionally peak the skyscrapers in-between the tall trees.
He tried not to think about it. He immersed himself in the fresh air and the petrichor. And for now, he had nothing to worry about.
He looked forward. There was a layer of mist? mystical beings? something untangible?
He believed he could not go further.
He raised his hand, reached out, but then retracted promptly in hesitation.
But there was no wall. The barrier has always been his mind.
He grabbed a random piece of paper from his bag. And a pen. He started to write mindlessly, and once in a while, he looked up and glanced around, then stoped for a moment, then started again.
There were no particular topic. There were no particular goal. Somehow he wrote something.
It did not matter that he lost the paper anyhow. He remembered the feeling, and that was everything that was important.
The man opened his eyes. The first thing he knew, he was tied to a chair, alone in a dark, apparently abandoned, warehouse.
The woman removed the towel in his mouth.
"Why," the man said, with a piercing expression, "why you?"
"Because," the woman replied, "it is much easier."
The woman took out a bat from seemingly nowhere, and hit the man in the temple, hard and loud.
Before the man passed out, he heard the woman said something.
"No apparent motive, no suspicion."
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