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To conquer this cityI look down at her. She's here, my little charming thing. I stare into her dark brown eyes, which seem to have no deep thought behind them. Amusement, perhaps. But not sane craziness it would be beyond my requirement, truly! No matter what I expect her to be, it would not change her, I thought firstly. But now I suspect, may be there some hidden energy, power of mind? Do we have ability to change things the way we want with only our attitude? So, is it possible that it was me who changed her? The same was with her sister. We named her right after she was born (and the name was made up much earlier). She was named after both and , and now she is very similar to them.
Anyway, back to the one that sits with me. I talk to her:
How come you are so small, dear? Is it a pro or con? Well, if you will be mine aren't you mine already? How do you think?..
I meet her slight embarrassment.
No need to say anything. I hope to see if our interests will me
To The LightThe routine cycle 'round the Light
'Round the school before the night
For a simple thought about future
That makes me no more a moocher.
I think about actively progressing fight
Between one and other state of mind.
It's snowing time, it's light because of windows.
Closed eyes; I see the endless meadows,
Border collie reaching its highest speed
Or any other dog, not mentioning the breed,
That I craved for all my summer life
To feel again that seethe and striking drive.
They'll recreate my daily reel anew.
For the sake of dangling pursue!
Let it happen in a month, before the shining May.
Hereafter, I don't want to experience delay.
I circle that building once again before the night,
You see, I submissively worship the sacred Light
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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