nights are the worst in winter, when the snow whirls around the building. the air is clean, fresh, hurts to breathe. just a drop of perfume is necessity.
the countess drifted through the rooms on light feet. she had to keep the facade, be something she no longer was. just for a moment, her consciousness shifted, lurched forward, and she looked away: these events would lose fashion soon.
Music, repeats: clashing state of mind. Sometimes Stellar Storyteller Six Word Challenge.
can't achieve my goals, you say? watch me. for three nights i'm awake on one long all-nighter, sleeping one of every eleven hours, cramming in plans. it isn't my birthdate yet, no extra year between goals and reality. i'm busy, scrabbling at everything i can think of while you run off and blindly follow goalposts. and so… Continue reading burning out 1.2 (150)
climbing to every new height, spiralling upwards on a steep incline. lay goals out, make them insurmountable and refuse to budge until the task is budged.
Taunting, tempting. So close; can't touch. Sometimes Stellar Storyteller Six Word Challenge.
build up a story-tower, weave it into being with words and magic. hold it together with love and hope, chase it up with creation for the sake of it. scrawl across a mirror in lipstick a profession of delight; lift and assemble every piece of masonry yourself. (feel the ache as muscles pull and develop their own… Continue reading power, 1.2 (150)