the four right chords can make me cry

what a friday

-:morning:-
i hate public transport and being lost.
are you coming back again? a sign that it makes a difference.
sharing from her heart, a glimpse into her soul. my admiration, my sympathies.
a smile and a head of flaming red hair.
rememberance & missing and a word of advice.

-:afternoon:-
disjoint; voyagers from a distant land so out of place. i gawk.
i still hate public transport.
frenzied substandard production amidst milo and meetings.
strange, both the look in her eyes i noticed and her subsequent copying.
regret that our vis-a-vis is so fleeting.
his true colours shine through once more. i inwardly recoil.
a scolding, tired voice and my guilty conscience.
do not, under any circumstances, look into the creature's eyes. for it makes you feel like you're the only person on earth.

-:evening:-
travelweary despite the aircon.
a wizened astral palm reader makes her appearance and dispenses words of agewisdom.
inexplicable joy brings forth atonal attempts at expression.
sleep steals, abruptly. many hours. strange bedfellows.

posted by beckyboo @ 2:19 PM