There was lint on his clothes. He usually didn’t like lint on his clothes. He wondered if he had time to pick it off before Josh came. But no, he didn’t. Josh knocked on the door and once Sam had opened it Josh walked in and kissed Sam–right on the mouth even, and Sam’s worry about the lint on his jacket vanished in an instant.
kc
Lint, that one really annoying thing that you find in your pocket. Digging around for change, instead you get a ball of this stupid fuzz. Where the fuck does it even come from? It’s like your clothes are coughing up little fur balls and they’re too embarrassed so they try to hide them in your pockets.
Ashley Biggs
The lint between the back of my knees was driving me insane. I hated those stupid microfleece, microfiber monstrosities people called blankets. They got all pilly and left lint everywhere, on every surface. And they made me sweat, creating little wet crevice for the lint to get stuck in. I wanted to burn his stupid blanket.
Jashana
In the car we spoke much about the #lint in our pockets. Interesting right? Well, it pissed us off. We could not understand how those pieces exist. Why they exist. @oznolem #oneword
The dryer went on drying as we went on dying.
Drinking, laughing, talking. Talking about nonsense
Talking about life. “Life is nonsense,” you would say, denying it in your head, though.
R.S.
Just another ball of ill-regarded garbage.
What an annoyance.
Pests.
The lint on his jacket piled up as he wore it again and again, not being noticed, not being cleaned. The jacket was dirty–nobody knew the last time the owner had washed it.
lint. the one thing he always found on his shirt
he leaned his elbows forward and sunk further into his desk.
he peered around the detention room.
so boring. and yet.
he plucked a little ball of lint off his shirt. hmph.
lint. the one thing he could never get off his clothes.
He tenderly touches his warm hand to my wind-chapped cheek. I blush brightly and immediately turn my face down, embarrassed of my bashfulness. The winter air, I quickly realize, has already masked my insecurity. A smile cracks my lips as my eyes narrow against the cold, my face lightly pressed at his shoulder. After a moment, I turn up to look at him. With his gaze fixed on me, he leans in to press his perfect lips on mine, and I swear, I forget everything.
He tenderly touches his warm hand to my wind-chapped cheek. I blush brightly and immediately turn my face down, embarrassed of my bashfulness. The winter air, I quickly realize, has already masked my insecurity. A smile cracks my face as my eyes narrow against the cold, my face lightly pressed at his shoulder. After a moment, I turn up to look at him. With his gaze fixed on me, he leans in to press his perfect lips on mine, and I swear, I forget everything.
She fidgeted with her robe, fingers smoothing down silk and embroidery. She frowned and pulled a piece of lint from the edge of her sleeve before flinching at a touch at her elbow. She turned to find her friend beckoning with her hand. “They are coming in now. Are you ready?”
Anon
Line is a very suspicious Word. Lint is a new Word for me.
lint is a new word for me which stands for an element from which cloth is made of.i have to remember its meaning sothat it can increase my memory
There was lint on his clothes. He usually didn’t like lint on his clothes. He wondered if he had time to pick it off before Josh came. But no, he didn’t. Josh knocked on the door and once Sam had opened it Josh walked in and kissed Sam–right on the mouth even, and Sam’s worry about the lint on his jacket vanished in an instant.
Lint, that one really annoying thing that you find in your pocket. Digging around for change, instead you get a ball of this stupid fuzz. Where the fuck does it even come from? It’s like your clothes are coughing up little fur balls and they’re too embarrassed so they try to hide them in your pockets.
The lint between the back of my knees was driving me insane. I hated those stupid microfleece, microfiber monstrosities people called blankets. They got all pilly and left lint everywhere, on every surface. And they made me sweat, creating little wet crevice for the lint to get stuck in. I wanted to burn his stupid blanket.
In the car we spoke much about the #lint in our pockets. Interesting right? Well, it pissed us off. We could not understand how those pieces exist. Why they exist. @oznolem #oneword
The dryer went on drying as we went on dying.
Drinking, laughing, talking. Talking about nonsense
Talking about life. “Life is nonsense,” you would say, denying it in your head, though.
Just another ball of ill-regarded garbage.
What an annoyance.
Pests.
fuzzy lifeforms around me
dancing and clinging to whomever will hold them
what an fascinating existence
but not envied by any.
discarded.
The lint on his jacket piled up as he wore it again and again, not being noticed, not being cleaned. The jacket was dirty–nobody knew the last time the owner had washed it.
lint. the one thing he always found on his shirt
he leaned his elbows forward and sunk further into his desk.
he peered around the detention room.
so boring. and yet.
he plucked a little ball of lint off his shirt. hmph.
lint. the one thing he could never get off his clothes.
I already write about this word!
This is a good word! I don’t know writing more about this word!
the dust sets on the streets
yellow for trees
rainbow for oil
black for city
the water catches it all
i step into a puddle
ankle deep
and uncaring
He tenderly touches his warm hand to my wind-chapped cheek. I blush brightly and immediately turn my face down, embarrassed of my bashfulness. The winter air, I quickly realize, has already masked my insecurity. A smile cracks my lips as my eyes narrow against the cold, my face lightly pressed at his shoulder. After a moment, I turn up to look at him. With his gaze fixed on me, he leans in to press his perfect lips on mine, and I swear, I forget everything.
She looked at him, memorizing every detail from each wavy hair to the lint on his sweatshirt. She loved all of it. She loved him.
v
She looked at him, memorizing every detail from each wavy hair to the lint on his sweatshirt. She loved all of it.
He tenderly touches his warm hand to my wind-chapped cheek. I blush brightly and immediately turn my face down, embarrassed of my bashfulness. The winter air, I quickly realize, has already masked my insecurity. A smile cracks my face as my eyes narrow against the cold, my face lightly pressed at his shoulder. After a moment, I turn up to look at him. With his gaze fixed on me, he leans in to press his perfect lips on mine, and I swear, I forget everything.
She fidgeted with her robe, fingers smoothing down silk and embroidery. She frowned and pulled a piece of lint from the edge of her sleeve before flinching at a touch at her elbow. She turned to find her friend beckoning with her hand. “They are coming in now. Are you ready?”
Line is a very suspicious Word. Lint is a new Word for me.
I don’t know what lint is.