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A girl sits at a solid oak desk, hair streaming down her back like the waves in a constant river. Window panes frosted. A weeping sky above. Mid-day lingers in darkness. Each like the day before. The pen still, the paper is clean, the mind untouched. Inspiration in bursts, far and few between. Apart from the rain drumming on the glass, the silence is piercing, silence in the mind. A figure walks in, out of the mist, a stream of light at his heels. The candels in the room, lite, until the wind blows,and the light burns out, in the same way it arrived, sudden. The pen is still, the paper is clean, and the mind, untouched.
joelle09 added this comment 2008-06-07 03:11:02-05:00
<3
joelle09 added this comment 2008-06-07 03:11:02-05:00
<3