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In The Present | The Man Is Here
https://francolevi.wordpress.com/2015/07/31/in-the-present
The Man Is Here. Asymp; Leave a comment. The Man Is Here. Larr; Previous post. Next post →. Leave a Reply Cancel reply. Enter your comment here. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:. Address never made public). You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out. You are commenting using your Google account. ( Log Out. Notify me of new comments via email. Blog ...
orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com
Orphans of the Narrative : September 2014
https://orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com/2014_09_01_archive.html
Orphans of the Narrative. Clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude." Virginia Woolf, Orlando. September 21, 2014. Water Treatment Plants Wanted. I wonder if some people are just like me when they open the shower. Does it occur to them that madness and water are just the same? Gentle fragments all by themselves. If only we could keep them fragments. Author claims no ownership for the image shown in this post. See disclaimer tab.). View my complete profile. Not Bragi at Wordpress Dot Com.
orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com
Orphans of the Narrative : November 2014
https://orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com/2014_11_01_archive.html
Orphans of the Narrative. Clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude." Virginia Woolf, Orlando. November 16, 2014. Waiting With Totoro Because of The Fish Gobbling Air. For three weeks now, I've been running, hoping to torch the fats I've accumulated these past few months in my belly. According to my plan, I have to jog on my way to the footbridge down the road, then climb the stairs of the footbridge up/down 10x, then run on my way back. He was staring at his phone and the artificial light was il...
orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com
Orphans of the Narrative : Finger-Wagging
https://orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com/2016/04/finger-wagging.html
Orphans of the Narrative. Clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude." Virginia Woolf, Orlando. April 10, 2016. A place, a city is not soulless, you are just too lazy to make the connection.". Look at your hands. Look at the lines on your palms. It is such a pity when it only circumnavigate our own planet. We cannot live our lives basically as "a world of it's own.". Collide, so something has a chance to live.". It shifted to our. I have an answer ready for that question, a reference from the birt...
orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com
Orphans of the Narrative : March 2015
https://orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com/2015_03_01_archive.html
Orphans of the Narrative. Clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude." Virginia Woolf, Orlando. March 15, 2015. The train is skipping stations. The silence took the form of darkness, until it was a blinding absence of sound - an eclipse that never woke up, a celestial shadow that suddenly became perpetual. It was my fault. My throat had dried up. The words I've practiced this morning transformed into a dinner I puked on the sidewalk after getting wasted in some college party years ago. I've heard ...
orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com
Orphans of the Narrative : July 2014
https://orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com/2014_07_01_archive.html
Orphans of the Narrative. Clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude." Virginia Woolf, Orlando. July 20, 2014. Our Names Plus the Three Dots. He was scratching for the words I left in his palms after I let go. There used to be tears in the furrows of his hands, and now like ancient rivers they dried up. Rivers he and time once shared while in the sitting in the darkness at the backseat, dreaming. They would reflect the vision that made his heart to hold on for so long. July 13, 2014. July 3, 2014.
orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com
Orphans of the Narrative : February 2015
https://orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com/2015_02_01_archive.html
Orphans of the Narrative. Clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude." Virginia Woolf, Orlando. February 27, 2015. Finally I have the night all by myself. Tonight I will summon the army of the undead. (But after 30 minutes, the cursor on the monitor stares at me. Bored. The undead never returned.) Am I no longer superhuman? Where are my fears and joys? Where are you my hatred and hopelessness? February 18, 2015. Stampless Selfish: A Bad Loveletter*. Hi there. How is it going? Stampless Selfish: A ...
orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com
Orphans of the Narrative : October 2014
https://orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com/2014_10_01_archive.html
Orphans of the Narrative. Clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude." Virginia Woolf, Orlando. October 27, 2014. Maybe it is measure in silence only I can hear. vibrating, strumming the cage bars. Or in the unforgiving taste of wondering, and how it access locked doors. Maybe it is measure in hopelessness - the tiny void that consumes soul. Author claims no ownership for the image shown in this post. Work of fiction.). View my complete profile. Not Bragi at Wordpress Dot Com. The Man Is Here.
orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com
Orphans of the Narrative : Exiles
https://orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com/2016/04/exiles.html
Orphans of the Narrative. Clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude." Virginia Woolf, Orlando. April 3, 2016. I was the faith you lost.". I said to the little star almost a year ago, which was probably have been dead for a long time now and probably not little (like absolutely NOT) in its entire existence. I said it to her (finally personifying the little star) while admiring the magnificent spikey and glowing roof of the island's prominent cultural theatre. She was probably lifeless now. And to ...
orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com
Orphans of the Narrative : December 2014
https://orphansofthenarrative.blogspot.com/2014_12_01_archive.html
Orphans of the Narrative. Clumsiness is often mated with a love of solitude." Virginia Woolf, Orlando. December 22, 2014. The more I adore you, the more I become a little different. You're the secret god I've made. I've written your name on the bathroom walls. The more you adore me, the more you become a little different. I am the secret god you've made. You've written my name on the bathroom walls. I've written your name on the bathroom walls in red, familiar sanguine ink. Begged it to go. A collection ...
