totaleclipseofthemind
Prints. I want all my favorite words printed across my chest (on a shirt, I mean). Then I could say anything, and not really have to say it. I couldn't do it like Ingle, print my affirmation on my skin (and besides, I think, with me? The print would just wash, or fade, off.)
Riot! Let us *riot*! In the streets, in the squares, in the court, down the block! You were right- it's time to riot. You're suggestions aren't so bright, but who cares, it's time for riots.
Welcome to the Bo Show...
I'm pretty sure that has a copyright so... I saw a drawing today, a comic, some people on a bus all with the same thought that the rest of the world was sheep and they were the one intelligent person. Maybe I'll walk to school so I can think this without embarrassment now....
My novel took place in a castle, there was a clocktower and dungeons and workrooms. Now that idea's gone kaput and I was considering a manor, but a manor can't be in the center of a floating city nor can it have a giant bell tower. Darn.
On the other hand castle are where dreams are put to bed, tucked in for another day, any day....
Mutual trust. Mutual respect. Mutual hatred. Mutual bonds. Virtually untrue. Mutual understanding. You get it, they get it. Mutual 'it's all good'.
Dull. Life was terribly dull, no more bright than the old silverware and sun-bleached paintings. Life was dull around the edges, of the pot the had cracked years ago, and the color of the marble birdbath. Life was dull.
(A very bad thing, right? Right?)
E turned on to her side, facing the wall not the window but the sounds of the march could still be heard, the flashes from the fireworks still be seen. The parade was loud and jarring and close, closer than anything had seemed- or been- in months. It sounded like war.
I care, okay? Too much. Sorry.
Conviction. Convicted? Was that one girl- the one in Italy, the Hayden Panettiere actress one convicted? What's conviction. Where's my dictionary....
The stacks are high, about 30 card soldiers each side. The stakes are higher, the fate of Wonderus in their hands. Behind the hay stacks the twins creep. He motions to his sister- 'shh'. They play too big a role in this revolution for such small children.
She raises her staff.
They stand and raise their torches.
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