Now that I am all situated inside of a sardine tin, let's reflect on the finer things in life.
I personally like wearing a scarf about my neck beneath the hallways of Autumny foliage. I swear I saw Ronald Weasley today on campus, without a broom, of course. So the holiday sequence has begun, and it's still amusing to visit various stores to scrutinize their seasonal layouts: the socks, lit-up headbands, and candy, all perpetually 50% off.
It gets dark earlier, and our conversations turn from this unto film. Children still hide their homework and parents still procrastinate on attending parent-teacher conferences.
Random questions appear and hint toward revolutionary thoughts until the sun says adieu and fatigue sets in. The man works and commutes and makes love to his wife and yet still has the energy to question. Why am I here? Who am I? This is not my beautiful wife.
Our patience is exploited until true desire reigns over self control. This is where car crashes and legal papers coalesce into the midlife crisis—and this is before the February monster. Men get that grey tone of skin and women lose that texture of skin. The grocery stores become alienating and because of work, daylight is a precious waste. We've filled our bellies with sunshine and BBQs, so let the intellectual and emotional fasting begin. The truth sets in and we've got nothing but night to eat.
Romance births a plethora of subgenres of weaponry.
I personally like wearing a scarf about my neck beneath the hallways of Autumny foliage. I swear I saw Ronald Weasley today on campus, without a broom, of course. So the holiday sequence has begun, and it's still amusing to visit various stores to scrutinize their seasonal layouts: the socks, lit-up headbands, and candy, all perpetually 50% off.
It gets dark earlier, and our conversations turn from this unto film. Children still hide their homework and parents still procrastinate on attending parent-teacher conferences.
Random questions appear and hint toward revolutionary thoughts until the sun says adieu and fatigue sets in. The man works and commutes and makes love to his wife and yet still has the energy to question. Why am I here? Who am I? This is not my beautiful wife.
Our patience is exploited until true desire reigns over self control. This is where car crashes and legal papers coalesce into the midlife crisis—and this is before the February monster. Men get that grey tone of skin and women lose that texture of skin. The grocery stores become alienating and because of work, daylight is a precious waste. We've filled our bellies with sunshine and BBQs, so let the intellectual and emotional fasting begin. The truth sets in and we've got nothing but night to eat.
Romance births a plethora of subgenres of weaponry.
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