When I’m walking on a beach I hate walking through the dry sand. My toes are too long and it is not a pleasant feeling. I do however, love walking on the cool, wet sand near the water. I feel like I could walk in that sand all day and never get tired of it.
The thing about beaches was that everyone left their footprint there. Even dogs. And I hated that my footprint would be between all these others, and that it would disappear in a crowd of other footprints, under a new layer of sand, disappear because of the sea. I didn’t want to lose my footprint like I had lost myself.
justin bieber
I leave footprints all around the house. I rarely wear shoes in the house, and I am damp soled. I can hear my feet make faint pat pat noises. If I am in socks, the noises are softer.
We see cat footprints on the windows some times. or the mirrors. yes the mirrors. We love to pat the mirrors.
She looks back, regretting the action as she does it. The long wave of indents in the sand, following her. They can’t be following her, they are her own. She is swept under a wave of confusion. Confused about the footprints in the sand.
as i walked through the snow, i left it behind. i was lucky it was not bloody; they could have traced me that way. i was lucky that i had not left a thread of evidence behind save these marks that would be gone come the next torment of weather. hopefully i would be hidden by then, but it couldn’t be guaranteed. it never could, anymore.
I was walking down the jungle one day. It was snowy and I saw some footprints. They were huge footprints. I couldn’t figure out what they were so I was scared. Th
bb
ın the past the mammuts lived. they were very huge animals and they weigh 1 tons. Th
aycacan
I have no idea what to write about footprint. :))
belgin
The digital footprint is a very sensitive subject. The current students must be very concerned about their traces inside the digital world. What they say and write is going to be recorded
Marcelo Molina
Once I left footprints along this path, but it had been so long since I had walked it that every trace of my earlier journeys had been washed away.
I still see them as clear as the ones you left as you were leaving; the ones you left as you were just coming in. It all happened so soon and everything felt like a blur. Were you just really here? Did you really exist?
She ran fast and clumsy across the sand. Hands stretched out before her, Danielle thought she could touch the sun just above the waves. It looked small between her fingers and her father was standing right next to it. The possibility of grabbing hold of something so big made her run faster. Cold water wrapped around her feet and she tripped.
Her footprint was small next to his own and he knew that it meant her time was fading fast. She was shrinking back down to her normal size and there was nothing he could do about it. She couldn’t stay there with him, but then he suddenly realized that he could shrink with her.
following. where do they lead? they have covered ground that no longer exists. useless markers. simple in their cadence. we need new paths. the paths need be our own.
Together they walked, hand in hand, down the waterfront. She dangled flip flops from her hand, having long ago cast them off in favor of the sensation of sand between her toes. His other hand was empty, instead occupied by gesturing wildly to underline the salient points in the story he was telling.
You watched them from your perch far away, listened to the sound of their laughter drifting up. But they are as phantoms; their happiness fleeting. Yet, their unbridled joy rings in your ears long after you watched the waves wash away all evidence of their existence.
what? i’ve already written to this word,
and then submitted
and then tried to write something new
and actually MADE AN ACCOUNT
in the hope that i could.
what is this???? i’ve already written about footprints!
Footprints are so easily washed away
i do it every day, at work
I mop the floors
wash down the carpets
you’d think i’d be good at it by now
then why are yours
tattooed on my floors?
Emily
Here l stood, contemplating. Another moment passed as an image emerged deep within the earth. She called me forward yet here l stood, contemplating . Another moment passed and l sighed deep relief. I stood here, contemplating as moments became time unreturned. Her breathing quickened as life entered her. Here l stood contemplating.
in the sand.
yes, i know it’s a cliché.
but there you have it.
it was like a red dress
distinctive, but
unoriginal
amongst others.
Amber Unpertie
LIke the blowing of the wind, our footprints that we left behind should be a clear indicator of our character. Who we are and what we stand for should be the evident to all who desire to live a wholesome life.
The footprint glowed as if there were an ominous presence which created it. She wondered who could have made such an odd looking print. Suddenly, a voice boomed at her but she couldn’t see anyone. “Don’t seek me, for I am He who cannot be found!”
Amy
It is so lovely being the first one onto a hot, sandy beach in the morning and knowing the only footprints are your own.
Birds talk loudly amongst themselves,
appear to eye me skeptically
Where are they?
Sand is indifferent anyway
Wendy
Where are mine? I look behind me
nothing
Birds talk loudly amongst themselves,
appear to eye me skeptically
Where are they?
Sand is indifferent anywat
Wendy
i left my carbon foot print
all but a shallow soot fringe
basketes a rye with casual flutters
altima straddles destroyrrf strutters
Phil
Each imprint sank into the mud, only to be engulfed once more by the sickening squelch that, like the unprecedented wave, collapsed within itself. It was a moment when tears were lost amongst rain.
There was no trace of her in the woods, nary a footprint of even the barest wisp of a scent to be found there, even if you looked. And, by the gods own fire, how he looked. His men and his dogs and even he himself scoured those hills in search of his wayward bride. But, as minutes turned to hours and hours to days, he found nary a trace of her.
For he looked for a woman when he should have looked for a wolf.
When I’m walking on a beach I hate walking through the dry sand. My toes are too long and it is not a pleasant feeling. I do however, love walking on the cool, wet sand near the water. I feel like I could walk in that sand all day and never get tired of it.
The thing about beaches was that everyone left their footprint there. Even dogs. And I hated that my footprint would be between all these others, and that it would disappear in a crowd of other footprints, under a new layer of sand, disappear because of the sea. I didn’t want to lose my footprint like I had lost myself.
I leave footprints all around the house. I rarely wear shoes in the house, and I am damp soled. I can hear my feet make faint pat pat noises. If I am in socks, the noises are softer.
We see cat footprints on the windows some times. or the mirrors. yes the mirrors. We love to pat the mirrors.
I need to see my foot prints in sand soon.
She looks back, regretting the action as she does it. The long wave of indents in the sand, following her. They can’t be following her, they are her own. She is swept under a wave of confusion. Confused about the footprints in the sand.
urma talpilor tale in nisipul de pe plaja. urma unui dinozaur. amprentele picoarelor pe zapada.
as i walked through the snow, i left it behind. i was lucky it was not bloody; they could have traced me that way. i was lucky that i had not left a thread of evidence behind save these marks that would be gone come the next torment of weather. hopefully i would be hidden by then, but it couldn’t be guaranteed. it never could, anymore.
I was walking down the jungle one day. It was snowy and I saw some footprints. They were huge footprints. I couldn’t figure out what they were so I was scared. Th
ın the past the mammuts lived. they were very huge animals and they weigh 1 tons. Th
I have no idea what to write about footprint. :))
The digital footprint is a very sensitive subject. The current students must be very concerned about their traces inside the digital world. What they say and write is going to be recorded
Once I left footprints along this path, but it had been so long since I had walked it that every trace of my earlier journeys had been washed away.
I still see them as clear as the ones you left as you were leaving; the ones you left as you were just coming in. It all happened so soon and everything felt like a blur. Were you just really here? Did you really exist?
She ran fast and clumsy across the sand. Hands stretched out before her, Danielle thought she could touch the sun just above the waves. It looked small between her fingers and her father was standing right next to it. The possibility of grabbing hold of something so big made her run faster. Cold water wrapped around her feet and she tripped.
Her footprint was small next to his own and he knew that it meant her time was fading fast. She was shrinking back down to her normal size and there was nothing he could do about it. She couldn’t stay there with him, but then he suddenly realized that he could shrink with her.
following. where do they lead? they have covered ground that no longer exists. useless markers. simple in their cadence. we need new paths. the paths need be our own.
Together they walked, hand in hand, down the waterfront. She dangled flip flops from her hand, having long ago cast them off in favor of the sensation of sand between her toes. His other hand was empty, instead occupied by gesturing wildly to underline the salient points in the story he was telling.
You watched them from your perch far away, listened to the sound of their laughter drifting up. But they are as phantoms; their happiness fleeting. Yet, their unbridled joy rings in your ears long after you watched the waves wash away all evidence of their existence.
what? i’ve already written to this word,
and then submitted
and then tried to write something new
and actually MADE AN ACCOUNT
in the hope that i could.
what is this???? i’ve already written about footprints!
Footprints are so easily washed away
i do it every day, at work
I mop the floors
wash down the carpets
you’d think i’d be good at it by now
then why are yours
tattooed on my floors?
Here l stood, contemplating. Another moment passed as an image emerged deep within the earth. She called me forward yet here l stood, contemplating . Another moment passed and l sighed deep relief. I stood here, contemplating as moments became time unreturned. Her breathing quickened as life entered her. Here l stood contemplating.
in the sand.
yes, i know it’s a cliché.
but there you have it.
it was like a red dress
distinctive, but
unoriginal
amongst others.
LIke the blowing of the wind, our footprints that we left behind should be a clear indicator of our character. Who we are and what we stand for should be the evident to all who desire to live a wholesome life.
The footprint glowed as if there were an ominous presence which created it. She wondered who could have made such an odd looking print. Suddenly, a voice boomed at her but she couldn’t see anyone. “Don’t seek me, for I am He who cannot be found!”
It is so lovely being the first one onto a hot, sandy beach in the morning and knowing the only footprints are your own.
Where are mine? I look behind me
nothing
Birds talk loudly amongst themselves,
appear to eye me skeptically
Where are they?
Sand is indifferent anyway
Where are mine? I look behind me
nothing
Birds talk loudly amongst themselves,
appear to eye me skeptically
Where are they?
Sand is indifferent anywat
i left my carbon foot print
all but a shallow soot fringe
basketes a rye with casual flutters
altima straddles destroyrrf strutters
Each imprint sank into the mud, only to be engulfed once more by the sickening squelch that, like the unprecedented wave, collapsed within itself. It was a moment when tears were lost amongst rain.
I want more of you Jesus
God is Great
There was no trace of her in the woods, nary a footprint of even the barest wisp of a scent to be found there, even if you looked. And, by the gods own fire, how he looked. His men and his dogs and even he himself scoured those hills in search of his wayward bride. But, as minutes turned to hours and hours to days, he found nary a trace of her.
For he looked for a woman when he should have looked for a wolf.