Nailah grabs ingrds wrist in a moment of furry and passion. ingird looks down at her hand and then up at nailah. her face twists with longing naialh gazes deeply yinto her eyes. ingrid gazes back. naialh pulls ingrid in for a feverish kiss. slowly seven burning suns apear in the sky.
shes grabs ingrid wrist. ingrid looks down at her hand then up at nailah, she gazes into here eyes. nailah pulls inrid in and they share a deep slow passionate kiss. sudenly the ssky begins to light up with seven burning suns.
Karuna
My wrist is bent at an odd angle. It wasn’t like that when I woke up this morning, but I suppose these things happen.
My knees are bent oddly too. Actually, are those knees? They’re a little high to be knees…and they have more of a wave than a bend, really…
What is this behind my head? It’s hard to reach because my arm isn’t my arm anymore, but I have a vague suspicion that it’s supposed to be attached to my ankle.
Where is my chest, anyway? I thought it was right in front of me…
Elafi Milo
My wrist is bent at an odd angle. It wasn’t like that when I woke up this morning, but I suppose these things happen.
My knees are bent oddly too. Actually, are those knees? They’re a little high to be knees…
What is this behind my head? It’s hard to reach because my arm isn’t my arm anymore, but I have a vague suspicion that it’s supposed to be attached to my chest.
Where is my chest, anyway? I thought it was right in front of me…
Elafi Milo
Wrists twist and crack, tied together with zip tie by migrant border fascists. Not mine but someone’s. My wrists are are too soft and brittle for such violence. But that’s no excuse.
M
I need to draw with my arm not my wrist. I know this but as I told my Chinese traditional painting teacher, my head understands, my hand does not. I messaged her last night, upset at my lack of progress. Trying to teach myself with books and videos is not the same as having someone there to help shape your grasp. I wish for so many things but there is so little time and the world is too big. My most wished-for superpower now would be teleportation instead of always missing someone or something.
Attached to my hand helps me write. Needed fir tennis and golf. Helps with syrength forvyoga
Luz
As I age, my hands grow tired. I can’t twist them as much as I used to. Typing has been growing more difficult as I feel the arthritis grow in my bones. Some days I tell myself to stretch them more, but I’d rather squeeze a stress ball instead.
The bracelet dangled off of her wrist, softly swaying as she lifted it up. But to her it felt heavy. What did this gift mean? Did it hold secret promises by accepting it? She wore a wide smile on her face masking her worry. He wore the same smile, his was not masking anything. And he didn’t seem to notice the secret worry behind her eyes.
Nailah grabs ingrds wrist in a moment of furry and passion. ingird looks down at her hand and then up at nailah. her face twists with longing naialh gazes deeply yinto her eyes. ingrid gazes back. naialh pulls ingrid in for a feverish kiss. slowly seven burning suns apear in the sky.
shes grabs ingrid wrist. ingrid looks down at her hand then up at nailah, she gazes into here eyes. nailah pulls inrid in and they share a deep slow passionate kiss. sudenly the ssky begins to light up with seven burning suns.
My wrist is bent at an odd angle. It wasn’t like that when I woke up this morning, but I suppose these things happen.
My knees are bent oddly too. Actually, are those knees? They’re a little high to be knees…and they have more of a wave than a bend, really…
What is this behind my head? It’s hard to reach because my arm isn’t my arm anymore, but I have a vague suspicion that it’s supposed to be attached to my ankle.
Where is my chest, anyway? I thought it was right in front of me…
My wrist is bent at an odd angle. It wasn’t like that when I woke up this morning, but I suppose these things happen.
My knees are bent oddly too. Actually, are those knees? They’re a little high to be knees…
What is this behind my head? It’s hard to reach because my arm isn’t my arm anymore, but I have a vague suspicion that it’s supposed to be attached to my chest.
Where is my chest, anyway? I thought it was right in front of me…
Wrists twist and crack, tied together with zip tie by migrant border fascists. Not mine but someone’s. My wrists are are too soft and brittle for such violence. But that’s no excuse.
I need to draw with my arm not my wrist. I know this but as I told my Chinese traditional painting teacher, my head understands, my hand does not. I messaged her last night, upset at my lack of progress. Trying to teach myself with books and videos is not the same as having someone there to help shape your grasp. I wish for so many things but there is so little time and the world is too big. My most wished-for superpower now would be teleportation instead of always missing someone or something.
Attached to my hand helps me write. Needed fir tennis and golf. Helps with syrength forvyoga
As I age, my hands grow tired. I can’t twist them as much as I used to. Typing has been growing more difficult as I feel the arthritis grow in my bones. Some days I tell myself to stretch them more, but I’d rather squeeze a stress ball instead.
The bracelet dangled off of her wrist, softly swaying as she lifted it up. But to her it felt heavy. What did this gift mean? Did it hold secret promises by accepting it? She wore a wide smile on her face masking her worry. He wore the same smile, his was not masking anything. And he didn’t seem to notice the secret worry behind her eyes.