telling a sad story backwards-17.telling a sad story backwards-
it smells like grief and sterilized metal.
i climb into andrew’s bed, though the nurses have strictly forbidden it. he closes his eyes and holds me tightly, because he says when he can’t see me, it is easier to pretend i never happened to him.
15.
he pushes the cart aggressively down the aisle, pretending to mow over old ladies doing their sunday shopping.
"stop," i say giggling, lobbing a can of ravioli at him.
for a moment i think he simply didn't see me throw the can; it glances off his chest and falls to the floor, exploding in a pattern of
Fan-arts
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The world is but a canvas to our imaginations. ~ Henry David Thoreauhand
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What is life? It is the flash of a firefly in the night. It is the breath of a fawn in the wintertime. It is the little shadow which runs across the grass and loses itself in the sunset.
I has a lemon!
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The world is but a canvas to our imaginations. ~ Henry David Thoreauhand
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Remember, remember the fifth of November…
V for Vendetta
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'In pencil we trust
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Saving the world one butt at a time...
~Gen13-Club~Tomb-Raiders-Temple~PWFA=PortraitPencilArt~dAportraiteures
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Practice makes mah kugfu stronga.
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