fferasmus
I am an inventor, inventing my day. I invent my schedule and my hopes. Then I invent the people to put in them, and invent the things that I will do. I invent my world.
The jelly wobbled on the tray as she carried it over, it could have spilled but it didn't. It was another small victory for the overworked waitress, another obnoxious customer gulped down their desert. The other tables were all jockeying for her attention, this one wanted more wine the other wanted the cheque, the overweight businessman in the corner just wanted her number and the old hag in the mink coat was "still waiting on that main course, my dear"; Enough, she had had enough of serving this fucking jelly, she was going to shove the next one somewhere that it didn't belong.
The Furnace: It baked brocks and clay sculptures for the people to admire and for the people to build with. It burned night and day, with rotating shifts of hard working labourers that fed its eternal fires till it was fiery hot. it was all the town had to live for, but they did not mind because it brought them warmth, bricks and clay sculptures.
8 legs, as many eyes. I remember when my dad had come back from ecuador or brazil or somewhere like that. he had this stuffed turantula in a case. my sister is arachnaphobic and i think she nearly had the earliest heart attack by anybody ever, she must have been like 9 or something.
My mom reads recipes, my dad however cooks without them. She can create just about anything perfectly, but he has a few old favourites that are delicious every time. I cant say for certain which is better. Maybe it helps to have a little of both new and a old and tested in the things we eat.