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A Thousand Fragments | athousandfragments.com Reviews
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athousandfragments.com
A Thousand Fragments ~ #0049 fireworks
http://www.athousandfragments.com/fireworks
Laquo; the gift. Posted 04 December 2014 at 18.25. You capture so beautifully those moments in the present that trigger jewel-like moments of the past. It’s the bittersweet curse of parenting–forever saying hello and goodbye to tiny, lovely moments like these. Posted 04 December 2014 at 21.18. NiceTime spent. Time ticking. Posted 08 January 2015 at 22.52. Yes, that’s the sour beauty of being a parent alright. Thank you. Click here to cancel reply. Mail (will not be published) (required).
A Thousand Fragments ~ #0008 crisp
http://www.athousandfragments.com/crisp
Posted 17 January 2012 at 20.11. Another lovely piece, every sentence, so vivid and alive. 8220;The wind blows into us, letting us know that the grey will soon visit here.”…yeah, that! Posted 17 January 2012 at 22.00. To be able to see these little moments hold them in your minds eye and then gently place them on pages for us to read, for you to revisit and for her one day to discover. Posted 18 January 2012 at 03.07. Gorgeous. My first thought at the end was what if that won’t happen? Bessie has about f...
A Thousand Fragments ~ matt_inwood
http://www.athousandfragments.com/sample-page/matt_inwood
A Thousand Fragments ~ #0042 goodbye: 3/3 (a mother and a son)
http://www.athousandfragments.com/goodbye-33-a-mother-and-son
Goodbye: 3/3 (a mother and a son). The past; the present; a sense of something in front of us. Days like this feel, or felt, like several time frames combined and a sense of being in each one at once. Remembering, feeling, anticipating: it all becomes became the same. It’s all part of travelling to and from a point, to record a few more moments: to splinter time and memory once more…. Mum dips her head and points a finger to somewhere over my left shoulder and tells me,. She sees my surprise and so adds,.
A Thousand Fragments ~ #0007 cold
http://www.athousandfragments.com/cold
The cold bit deeper and deeper. Seconds stacked slowly, sixty at a time. Minutes grouped into fives and tens. Time became strangely warped and dislocated from place. I whispered every permutation of those two numbers I could think of, every rhythm for putting them out there again and again, searching for them more keenly than I had ever looked for them before. And sixty seconds passed. And another sixty seconds passed. And again, and again, and again. Would we find that same soft-blemished ground there?
TOTAL PAGES IN THIS WEBSITE
20
Crazy Thoughts: August 2012
http://crazythaughts.blogspot.com/2012_08_01_archive.html
Thursday, 23 August 2012. 100 words: Falling leaves. I watch the leaves falling from the trees as I walk through the woods. Red, orange and yellow leaves separate themselves from the branches one by one. They remind me of children who grow up and leave their parents, just like leaves leave the branches. Povezave do te objave. Thursday, 9 August 2012. She was wearing a lovely white summer dress with a wide red belt and had an angry look on her face, with traces of determination. He was looking around,...
Crazy Thoughts: Blood
http://crazythaughts.blogspot.com/2013/01/blood.html
Sunday, 13 January 2013. This story is not appropriate for children and sensitive people. The light in the bathroom was dim, only two candles placed on the shelf lighting it. Their flames were dancing to their own music in their own world; the world that we can’t hear or see but it must be magical. There was a sound of music coming for another room, slow jazz. Perhaps the flames could hear it too and they danced to the sound of saxophone, trumpet and piano. Monday, 14 January 2013 at 00:17:00 CET. I have...
Crazy Thoughts: Patience
http://crazythaughts.blogspot.com/2012/09/patience.html
Sunday, 23 September 2012. I'm sitting on the sofa in the living room, rolling my eyes as the noise from the other room is getting louder and louder. I try hard to concentrate on the documentary I’m watching with my mom but loud high-pitched voices coming from my sisters' room are making it quite impossible. Sunday, 23 September 2012 at 22:42:00 CEST. Its a practiced skill, trust me. Kudos to your Mom, clearly she has won the battle. :). Tuesday, 9 October 2012 at 20:13:00 CEST. Sounds like my Mum! My si...
Crazy Thoughts: 100 words: To the left
http://crazythaughts.blogspot.com/2012/10/100-words-to-left.html
Tuesday, 9 October 2012. 100 words: To the left. I sit at my table and look to the left where a kitchen sink full of dishes is waiting for me. I wish the kitchen wasn’t visible from my spot. Then, once again, I look to my left, where on the table next to my computer two thick books are waiting for me to read them. Lastly I look at the computer screen, where a blank white page is waiting for me to put words for my new blog post on it. Tuesday, 9 October 2012 at 23:14:00 CEST. But what was to the right?
resistantbutpersistent.blogspot.com
Resistant But Persistent: Cherish is the word I use to describe
http://resistantbutpersistent.blogspot.com/2011/04/cherish-is-word-i-use-to-describe.html
Playing with letters, dabbling in words. Monday, 11 April 2011. Cherish is the word I use to describe. It's not often that I spend an evening by myself. It's such a rarity that, when I imagine it, I build the idea up as a special treat, a chance to do what I like, an opportunity to pretend that I'm a grown-up independent woman, in charge of my own destiny and decisions. Half an hour home and I was already feeling a bit sorry for myself. I turned on the TV - not just for the sound of the voices; this ...
living-authentically.blogspot.com
The Authentic Life: I'm Gonna' Keep On Loving You
http://living-authentically.blogspot.com/2015/07/im-gonna-keep-on-loving-you.html
I'm Gonna' Keep On Loving You. 160;Thursday, July 2, 2015 – Humor. Paul’s definition of a good time is driving like a bat out of hell from Boston to Maine, which is funny, because that’s my definition of no sex tonight. You could say that he is an aggressive driver, but that would be an understatement. Maybe he is an obstreperous. 8220;Look Sweetie, no hands,” Paul says steering with his knees while changing lanes. But one night, many years into a relationship, when you come back from the gym and you...
resistantbutpersistent.blogspot.com
Resistant But Persistent: May 2014
http://resistantbutpersistent.blogspot.com/2014_05_01_archive.html
Playing with letters, dabbling in words. Tuesday, 27 May 2014. The end of the holiday. A couple of days ago, as I read the last few pages of a book that had completely captured me, I recognised that old feeling; a familiar sense of loss, a wistful wishing it could all carry on for just a little bit longer. Tuesday, 20 May 2014. I wonder if the Railway misses us. They seemed to be hardly Railway children at all in those days, and as the days went on each had an uneasy feeling about this which Phyllis expr...
resistantbutpersistent.blogspot.com
Resistant But Persistent: October 2013
http://resistantbutpersistent.blogspot.com/2013_10_01_archive.html
Playing with letters, dabbling in words. Sunday, 27 October 2013. After the clocks go back. I could use the extra hour to write a story,. Or pass it penning lyrics for a song. I might count each of the seconds very slowly,. To make the minutes linger on and on. I could view the extra hour as a bonus,. As added time to read and think and be. Three thousand and six hundred extra moments. A gift that comes from nowhere, burden-free. But I look out at the slowly lightening morning,. Sunday, 20 October 2013.
resistantbutpersistent.blogspot.com
Resistant But Persistent: September 2013
http://resistantbutpersistent.blogspot.com/2013_09_01_archive.html
Playing with letters, dabbling in words. Sunday, 1 September 2013. From Charing Cross to Sevenoaks. It's late afternoon, the end of a summer Sunday and the train is full. We sit quietly, each a little tired, each perhaps thinking about the film we've just seen. I want Mummy to sit in the middle" says the six-year-old, pulling my attention back to our side of the train carriage. "Then I can have a cuddle.". You can have a cuddle when we get home" his mum offers. "And I'll read you a story.". And I want to...
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athousandfootnotes.wordpress.com
a thousand footnotes
Because of one child. 8220;People ask, “Why do you work so hard for your students? 8221; There are so many things I could say but the answer must be – because of one child. I swim through seas of papers with colored pens as paddles – seeking to improve without dispiriting, to point a better way without losing their enthusiasm. Because of one child I seek my own reserves and provide opportunities which would otherwise be lost. Mary Anne Radmacher (2001). As Long As I Love You, I Am Not Free. Everyone brin...
athousandfootsteps.wordpress.com
A Thousand Footsteps | in no particular direction
In no particular direction. Tonight’s stream of consciousness. June 21, 2012. We were never here. This never happened. There’s no proof now. All that remains is a few photos of a person I barely resemble these days. Where does the good in us go? When we lose that light, that spark that kept life exciting, what remains? And where do the parts that we really like disappear to? August 16, 2011. It was worth a shot.). A Self Reality Check. August 13, 2011. I say that only because I find it a silly movie to r...
over wood and waste
Over wood and waste. Saturday, November 3, 2012. October is made for adventure. It's lovely to look back and think that this week, last year, I was in Latvia. And the year before, Northern India. And the year before, backpacking in the N. Cascades with my brother. Upon landing in Portland, my hair exploded into an untamable afro. My lungs took a big gulp of thick, salty air. Atlantic, at last! Visited Uncle Nic at work. Allagash. Treat Beer for the travel weary. We leaned up against the wall of the barn,.
a thousand forests
1koaks brownred stylized v3-copy.jpg. October 4, 2013. 1koaks brownred stylized v3-copy.jpg. Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.
A Thousand Forevers
Contact the Author sample mail@mail.com. A True Love Story. A True Love Story. This is a true story about a secret love, forbidden by society, which formed in childhood but was born from lifetimes of being together. It is told through letters in a loving, intimate, and soul-searching way. Their story is unique yet worldly, showing they overcame all odds in finding each other again. Order a copy now!
A Thousand Fragments
It’s 11.38pm and now quiet again. The office is cold. The monitor bathes everything in a little of its light; Post-It notes fluorescent by day now hang in autumnal hues from the wall to my right. 1153pm, Quiet, still. Darker now, too. Only the screensaver to illuminate, but a countering tiredness that dims. Posted: 23:20 18 February 2016 No comments. 8216;To my darling niece’. He chooses cards and words with care. For a few seconds my eyes are fixed on the sign-off at the foot of his message. And d...
A Thousand Free Words
A thousand free words. The art of being unemployed. PRISM Magazine ISSUE 1 - The art of being unemployed. Worth a 1000 words. Growth, drawing by Krabvri, The Artist Formerly Known as Chiti. Words of aggression get lost in translation. They weep as they die at the stalling touch of the number sign. You're not Sorry, You're not Blessed. You're not Flawless, may I say? Is it expected of me to believe that you really Woke Up Like This? Worth a 1000 words. My Big Fat Feminist Union. Worth a 1000 words. There ...
A Thousand Frogs
Seems I'm going to need to kiss at least a thousand frogs to find my prince. That should take a while. And until then, I can't get laid, so I vent my frustration on this blog. Oh, the joys of the internet. Saturday, June 4, 2011. Trader Joe goes Broadway! For our third date, Trader Joe offered lunch and a movie and I accepted, thinking either (a) the previous date was a fluke, and he's actually a really mature guy who isn't at all desperate or clingy and we could have a great time and keep dating, or.
Cargo
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a thousand furs
Wednesday, 22 July 2015. Nature as art, the beginning. Bare branches in the Boboli Gardens, Florence Italy. What a world out there. so many different shapes, textures, colours. And they change every day, even moment to moment while you gaze upon a different leaf, flower, unfurling cloud. And yet they can stand alone, as photographic squares of artistic endeavour in their own right. indeed, the chrysalis or flower are art before they were even captured, pondered, and incorporated into human handiwork.
A Thousand Futures | Nothing is impossible …
Nothing is impossible …. Everybody’s been bemoaning it on Facebook today, but–November already? The older I get, the faster time goes. I remember one of my great aunts saying that when I was a kid. At the time, I thought she was kind of loopy, but now I know exactly what she meant. (Sorry, Aunt Lois! In Thoughts on Life. My life has almost completely changed over the last year and a half. I made it through a lot of heart-wrenching, difficult moments, and a lot of days I just barely got through in ord...
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