serelloo
I never forget a set of steps. Repetitive as it is, whether you stride or hop or run or make a slow, depressed, elderly progress, you can never forget the way steps grind away your soul. Nineteenth century painted restorations covered in cheap carpet in an old farmhouse, the long stone slabs of government landmarks, the weird artificially marbled tiles of institutions that smell like bleach and sweat at once... do you ever pause before the staircase, meaning to begin the climb, but struck by a terrible inertia?
God, I hated sailing. Who voluntarily lives in an environment that'll kill them if you make a mistake? I like my feet on solid ground, thanks.
She couldn't tell - because of the colored glass - what kind of thing the solution might be. For sure, she really shouldn't drink it, even though in a warm brown glass it reminded her of a cool beer. No, ignore curiosity. It's not worth finding out whether you can take the liquid or the liquid melts your insides.
The really special feet sallied forth, carrying a very special brain beneath a fine cocked hat (with a blue jay's feather in the band). They were off to conquer a game of chess; the stakes were very high.
Ah, the old chompers. The pearly lovelies. That's a thou per pair, because my patroness is a sweet, avid collector. You'd never pick her out of a gaggle of crazies, bundled as she is in the same cheap coats and sack-like dresses and those poor ragged shoes... but her handwriting is the absolute loveliest, and one day, a note fell from her gigantic canvas tote.
"With love, T.F."
The beat of cavalry sounded over the hills, and I prayed we would be safe at home. Let no one lust after my cattle for meat, or try to burn my home. We're not part of this. Leave us alone.
She was shown into a broom with a purple light - no, not purple. The light was yellow, the veil thrown over the shade was lavender. It threw strange shadows on the magician's face, and she thought he relished too much his own theatrical effects.
I remember when the little baby was born and you were stressed out all the time. Was there food? Where were blankets? Everything was full of danger, a possible poison. After a little while, you were reconciled with the world and remembered to pay attention to the little person growing up, show her a bit of joy. When she laughed, it was sunny.
I'm climbing up a hill of sinking stones and shifting grey dust, from a tunnel sunk in the base of a ruined warehouse. I shouldn't be down here, but the blackness of the mysterious depths pulled at me. I found nothing; then the sunlight high above me tempted me out. I wonder, though, if I've gotten stuck. Wonderful. Curiosity.
there's an open doorway down the hall. a bright light that blinds, so you can't see the furniture. you feel like walking through that mundane frame with its peeling paint might not be like walking into a sunny kitchen.
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