i’ve been here a long while. sitting under the willow tree. this is the way they’ll find me in the end. dirty barefeet covered in the dust of many a village.
nico
It was quiet. Nothing was moving. Not the wind, not feet, nothing. I looked around. It was strange to be back here. A place I left long ago. A place I didn’t want to return to. It was beyond my comprehension how such a tiny place could have such a big impact on somebody. I walked down the road. I passed tiny house after tiny house. They all looked the same.
cindy
The village was decimated by war. The insurgents had entered via the north entry and systematically pillaged and burnt the entire village. The one building left was the bakery. the ovens were still burning, the villagers felt that the looted might have thought the building was already on fire, and they overlooked the bounty within. The entire vilage had their daily bread contained within.
Penni
The village was near the corn fields and down by the pond. Everyone knew everyone. Children would be scolded by passing mothers and when your dog got our someone would recognize it and call you.
I lived in the brick house on the corner and never got used to the women down the street telling me it was dinner time and that it was time to go home to my mother.
gina
It was quaint. It was small. It was home. But it meant nothing. When people came to visit his home, they ooh’ed and aah’ed over the brown and white buildings, the cobbled streets, the picturesque storefronts. To them, it was heaven. To him, it was a hell no one could ever imagine.
Anastasia
The village that was supposed to raise this child was dysfunctional or non-existent, is my guess. Extended family is a blessing….or is it? Sometimes they aren’t the people to raise any child. And the child grows only in learning how to avoid what they have to offer. The other stuff to learn, about relationships, the world, how to function, must be had in a catch-as-catch-can manner, with a sense of judgment that is often not up to the task. But it’s not all doom and gloom. The physical village I grew up in still holds all fond memories for me, and I often fantasize about going back to look around (though 2500 miles is too much for me to manage at this point). That village holds a very warm, nostalgic, comforting place in my heart. I remember certain things with relish and love.
myrrh
I came across a village after getting lost in a strange forest. It was not like any village I had ever seen or heard of until now. They didn’t speak any verbal language, but rather communicated through physical actions. They looked upon me with the same curiosity as I looked upon them.
Annie
This village happened to be in the middle of a very very dark forest. The forest made it impossible for the light of the sun to go through, so the village lived in a semi-darkness all the time. Many animals lived near by and constantlyl attacked the village just for fun!
mine
there was once a village so full of people everyone lived on top of each other. The village was blue and had a green roof. People started growing smaller so they could all fit in the small village.
kay
A small gathering of people, like colonial England. Brings to mind Virginia, flowing pastures and development. Humble beginnings, simple lives that mean more than we can comprehend at times in this modern world.
someone
the village was full of dark things. People, trees, pets, you name it. This is a village no one ever travels to. They say it’s haunted by some sort of being. Not like the neighbouring villages full of happy, peppy people. They like vegimite.
Ali
the neighborhood is a village. It takes a village to raise a child.
BrendaLee R.
People? How many people it takes to raise a child? Voice?
I think anthropology when I see the world village, a place surrounded my by trees and humidity. Lots of tradition
Kels
A small cluster of ragtag huts–some with straw roofs, some built from homemade bricks, some with plaster walls–huddled together as if to warm each other against a bracing wind. Children brown as clay wove between the houses, chasing each other and laughing. A scruffy dog that had probably been white at one point lay at the mouth of one hut, growling in warning whenever a person walked by.
Yona
the small village at the base of mount gurunoa was peopled by the products of a bountiful and truly happy existence. they smiled
john
The Village People were a really bad group musically. However, one of their songs, YMCA, seems to live on. Now, generations of kids have grown up parroting this song, which is either about the YMCA or something altogether more questionable, the private lives of those who stay in the YMCA dorms. Many kids are not aware of this second potential meaning, as YMCA dorms are decreasing, and many kids who are exposed to the song may not be aware of the activity that occurs in these dorms. Of course, this could be a song about an after school program or a gym.
qrs
it says don’t think, just write. well that’s damn near impossible, after reading that. all i can do is think. and smile (again). how thought provoking. what a way to start a weekend. wow. well…give me a better word than village, and i’m sure something comparably fantastic will result. until then, i’ll think and smile for 3 days.
pLh
One day I went to a village and there was nothing to do at all. It was a small town by the beach, and it was the end of the fall. It was starting to get a bit chilly but not too cold to go for a walk yet. I wandered down to the beach to see what I could find but there was nothing at all. No people. No gulls even.
Laura
the place where people hang out. live. eat sleep. for me… it’s the villager. a bar. where i don’t eat. try not to think. drink. enjoy.
that’s all i have to say about this.
charlotte
Village is a place where people are made and courage is prepared for the real world. Its your testing ground before life begins. Get ready, this village means war.
Zach Addair
people, obviously, gay leather sunglasses 60s free love, psychedelic magic mushrooms Alister Crowley, Satan, pentagram pentagon Washington dc, white house bush, fake , in league with the devil?
mad
the village was green and blue. The sky was always blue, and the water was always clear. People was great there. I loved the village. Loved the people there. At night, the stars shown even brighter than they usually do. I love to hear the music of the wind down in the village. I loved to think of a village of my own. I love to write about it.
Luz Ma Gonzalez A
in that village, everything was right. the sun was shinning and the kids were out playing with theirs dogs, while her parents were drinking coffee. everything was in peace and quiet. it wasnt a nice place, wouldnt like to live with no chaos.
alice
I don’t know why, but life is like a village. I was, but again, why? Don’t know.
ted
the village was pillaged by pirates and mermaids, by little boys who were lost, by a magic fairy boy who never aged. We grew up in that village, and we enjoyed being pillaged. I’ll take the boy who never grows up, because he could be hot when he does, and I’ll raise him and make him a man, and I’ll not be his mother at all, but instead be the woman who introduces him to adulthood. It is good, adulthood. It is fine, the red wine that is made in our village.
Heidi
There was a small quaint village that reeked of black plague and rat infestations. Little did the tourists know, the price of the culture–of the quaintness–was the price of struggle and death as well.
Kelly
again i dont wanna write about villages again last time was bad enough okay you know what i think of i think of those little medieval villages with the big castle and all the peples running around everywhere like an ants nest but then i suppose
lozza
there once was a villlage with lots of little peples and they lived there lots and lots im talking rubbish there was a big village monster grrr growl and it stomped on the peoples and they died splat wtf who cares village village you know
lozza
Villages are peaceful places. Everybody knows each other and daily get-togethers are a common thing.
Brian Gallagher
the village sat beyond the mountains
a blanket of soft glittering snow caressing it’s curves
and the still air did not desturb the evil that lay
just out of reach,
behind thin walls
Kim
It takes a village to raise a child. How big does the village have to be, though? What constitutes a village anyway? And if they’re all focusing on one child, then what happens to all the other children? And what about when that child has children? How do they know what to do? Really, if you think about it… it’s not such a great idea after all.
brigitte
It takes a village to raise a child, right? I think this phrase still applies today.. but to the universal village of TV, the Internet, movies, etc. Everything I need to know I learned from Zack Morris. Most parents don’t even need to have the sex talk with their kids anymore. They just learn it all from the international village.
andy
They left the diner with great expectations of life altering moments. The word
Fred Man Jones
in the village where all the flowers that one could desire grew, there you found yourself indulged in the most intense sense of belonging. There you found what many seek and few find, true love. Not carnal love but love of nature, love of self and respect for all that tha is unknown
victor hernandez
i dont live in village.. I live in town
But i believe village is beautiful .. I would love to go to village and take photos of nature
Do all love village and scenic beauty like me?
I Love village
div
a village should take care of its people, it takes a village to raise the next generation. My village is my friends and family who support me and are there for me when I need them to be.
maybe it will be just around the corner, you said. I nodded absentmindedly and kept on driving. There was nothing more to gain. Or lose. No more words. We exhausted our quota of interesting conversations several miles ago.
Karen Hinojosa
it was in the small village of san juan that I decided to stow away with him. I never have regretted that trip, despite it’s outcome. i still use that experience as a measuring stick for my courage.
jlw
A long time ago,there was a person,who lived in a village full of slaves.One day,a mysterious uninvited guest came and capture the whole town,bringing sadness to everyone.
They were all brought into stores all over the world for people to buy them and use them.
i’ve been here a long while. sitting under the willow tree. this is the way they’ll find me in the end. dirty barefeet covered in the dust of many a village.
It was quiet. Nothing was moving. Not the wind, not feet, nothing. I looked around. It was strange to be back here. A place I left long ago. A place I didn’t want to return to. It was beyond my comprehension how such a tiny place could have such a big impact on somebody. I walked down the road. I passed tiny house after tiny house. They all looked the same.
The village was decimated by war. The insurgents had entered via the north entry and systematically pillaged and burnt the entire village. The one building left was the bakery. the ovens were still burning, the villagers felt that the looted might have thought the building was already on fire, and they overlooked the bounty within. The entire vilage had their daily bread contained within.
The village was near the corn fields and down by the pond. Everyone knew everyone. Children would be scolded by passing mothers and when your dog got our someone would recognize it and call you.
I lived in the brick house on the corner and never got used to the women down the street telling me it was dinner time and that it was time to go home to my mother.
It was quaint. It was small. It was home. But it meant nothing. When people came to visit his home, they ooh’ed and aah’ed over the brown and white buildings, the cobbled streets, the picturesque storefronts. To them, it was heaven. To him, it was a hell no one could ever imagine.
The village that was supposed to raise this child was dysfunctional or non-existent, is my guess. Extended family is a blessing….or is it? Sometimes they aren’t the people to raise any child. And the child grows only in learning how to avoid what they have to offer. The other stuff to learn, about relationships, the world, how to function, must be had in a catch-as-catch-can manner, with a sense of judgment that is often not up to the task. But it’s not all doom and gloom. The physical village I grew up in still holds all fond memories for me, and I often fantasize about going back to look around (though 2500 miles is too much for me to manage at this point). That village holds a very warm, nostalgic, comforting place in my heart. I remember certain things with relish and love.
I came across a village after getting lost in a strange forest. It was not like any village I had ever seen or heard of until now. They didn’t speak any verbal language, but rather communicated through physical actions. They looked upon me with the same curiosity as I looked upon them.
This village happened to be in the middle of a very very dark forest. The forest made it impossible for the light of the sun to go through, so the village lived in a semi-darkness all the time. Many animals lived near by and constantlyl attacked the village just for fun!
there was once a village so full of people everyone lived on top of each other. The village was blue and had a green roof. People started growing smaller so they could all fit in the small village.
A small gathering of people, like colonial England. Brings to mind Virginia, flowing pastures and development. Humble beginnings, simple lives that mean more than we can comprehend at times in this modern world.
the village was full of dark things. People, trees, pets, you name it. This is a village no one ever travels to. They say it’s haunted by some sort of being. Not like the neighbouring villages full of happy, peppy people. They like vegimite.
the neighborhood is a village. It takes a village to raise a child.
People? How many people it takes to raise a child? Voice?
I think anthropology when I see the world village, a place surrounded my by trees and humidity. Lots of tradition
A small cluster of ragtag huts–some with straw roofs, some built from homemade bricks, some with plaster walls–huddled together as if to warm each other against a bracing wind. Children brown as clay wove between the houses, chasing each other and laughing. A scruffy dog that had probably been white at one point lay at the mouth of one hut, growling in warning whenever a person walked by.
the small village at the base of mount gurunoa was peopled by the products of a bountiful and truly happy existence. they smiled
The Village People were a really bad group musically. However, one of their songs, YMCA, seems to live on. Now, generations of kids have grown up parroting this song, which is either about the YMCA or something altogether more questionable, the private lives of those who stay in the YMCA dorms. Many kids are not aware of this second potential meaning, as YMCA dorms are decreasing, and many kids who are exposed to the song may not be aware of the activity that occurs in these dorms. Of course, this could be a song about an after school program or a gym.
it says don’t think, just write. well that’s damn near impossible, after reading that. all i can do is think. and smile (again). how thought provoking. what a way to start a weekend. wow. well…give me a better word than village, and i’m sure something comparably fantastic will result. until then, i’ll think and smile for 3 days.
One day I went to a village and there was nothing to do at all. It was a small town by the beach, and it was the end of the fall. It was starting to get a bit chilly but not too cold to go for a walk yet. I wandered down to the beach to see what I could find but there was nothing at all. No people. No gulls even.
the place where people hang out. live. eat sleep. for me… it’s the villager. a bar. where i don’t eat. try not to think. drink. enjoy.
that’s all i have to say about this.
Village is a place where people are made and courage is prepared for the real world. Its your testing ground before life begins. Get ready, this village means war.
people, obviously, gay leather sunglasses 60s free love, psychedelic magic mushrooms Alister Crowley, Satan, pentagram pentagon Washington dc, white house bush, fake , in league with the devil?
the village was green and blue. The sky was always blue, and the water was always clear. People was great there. I loved the village. Loved the people there. At night, the stars shown even brighter than they usually do. I love to hear the music of the wind down in the village. I loved to think of a village of my own. I love to write about it.
in that village, everything was right. the sun was shinning and the kids were out playing with theirs dogs, while her parents were drinking coffee. everything was in peace and quiet. it wasnt a nice place, wouldnt like to live with no chaos.
I don’t know why, but life is like a village. I was, but again, why? Don’t know.
the village was pillaged by pirates and mermaids, by little boys who were lost, by a magic fairy boy who never aged. We grew up in that village, and we enjoyed being pillaged. I’ll take the boy who never grows up, because he could be hot when he does, and I’ll raise him and make him a man, and I’ll not be his mother at all, but instead be the woman who introduces him to adulthood. It is good, adulthood. It is fine, the red wine that is made in our village.
There was a small quaint village that reeked of black plague and rat infestations. Little did the tourists know, the price of the culture–of the quaintness–was the price of struggle and death as well.
again i dont wanna write about villages again last time was bad enough okay you know what i think of i think of those little medieval villages with the big castle and all the peples running around everywhere like an ants nest but then i suppose
there once was a villlage with lots of little peples and they lived there lots and lots im talking rubbish there was a big village monster grrr growl and it stomped on the peoples and they died splat wtf who cares village village you know
Villages are peaceful places. Everybody knows each other and daily get-togethers are a common thing.
the village sat beyond the mountains
a blanket of soft glittering snow caressing it’s curves
and the still air did not desturb the evil that lay
just out of reach,
behind thin walls
It takes a village to raise a child. How big does the village have to be, though? What constitutes a village anyway? And if they’re all focusing on one child, then what happens to all the other children? And what about when that child has children? How do they know what to do? Really, if you think about it… it’s not such a great idea after all.
It takes a village to raise a child, right? I think this phrase still applies today.. but to the universal village of TV, the Internet, movies, etc. Everything I need to know I learned from Zack Morris. Most parents don’t even need to have the sex talk with their kids anymore. They just learn it all from the international village.
They left the diner with great expectations of life altering moments. The word
in the village where all the flowers that one could desire grew, there you found yourself indulged in the most intense sense of belonging. There you found what many seek and few find, true love. Not carnal love but love of nature, love of self and respect for all that tha is unknown
i dont live in village.. I live in town
But i believe village is beautiful .. I would love to go to village and take photos of nature
Do all love village and scenic beauty like me?
I Love village
a village should take care of its people, it takes a village to raise the next generation. My village is my friends and family who support me and are there for me when I need them to be.
mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmiiiiiilllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy
maybe it will be just around the corner, you said. I nodded absentmindedly and kept on driving. There was nothing more to gain. Or lose. No more words. We exhausted our quota of interesting conversations several miles ago.
it was in the small village of san juan that I decided to stow away with him. I never have regretted that trip, despite it’s outcome. i still use that experience as a measuring stick for my courage.
A long time ago,there was a person,who lived in a village full of slaves.One day,a mysterious uninvited guest came and capture the whole town,bringing sadness to everyone.
They were all brought into stores all over the world for people to buy them and use them.