Once upon a future in a far away land, a gentlemen burrowed, in a god forsaken place, a peaceful place, a respectful place, his place. The colors around his reality illuminated rich beauty into his slow paced heart and deteriorating brain. Repulsing it, like the strange, unknown forgetful dreams. It was perfect.
The air was abnormally thick and warm breezes caused the sand paper to flap aggressively against the cabin, making the man wear boots, socks over his trousers, an oxford, and a sophisticated shawl sweat shirt. The clothing pieces reveal mainly 'cotton' and 'wool, cashmere blends', usually what the Last People placed on their fashion garments for luxuriant purposes. It was perfect. Outrageous!
Seasons brought even rain pours and whitening storms. The grey midst above in the open space would disappear on and off like a light show, bringing the white rays onto the grounds. Sometimes the wishful man hoped for long flashes of light at a time. Giving him the sense of all that was special and secure to him. It was perfect.
The man is alone, thoughtless, pathetic. For its his brain's survival mechanism, feel only what there is to feel. Which is what is. The constant coverage over the historic memories shelter his facial reaction, leaving him emotionless. The pain of depression becomes numb after the years of The Change. Its the way it its. Its perfect.
But sometimes.. The luscious colors, random fashion garments, southern whitening storms, open the vault to his knowledge, and he finds himself, enjoys himself, remembers himself. He is happy. Its Outrageously perfect!
Sir Mitchell Toews
Here are two out of many others
Goddess of night, Nyx, watching over God of Death, Thanatos. Hypnos, God of sleep is not shown, but he is next. Nyx is the mother. Thanatos prepares a poppy for his awaiting brother while the heavy valley lays peacefully between two far away mountains, shutting the light out to bring their mothers nightly visit. The night is peaceful.
The garments sufficiently brought life to her reflection. Time and life is of the essence.
The air was abnormally thick and warm breezes caused the sand paper to flap aggressively against the cabin, making the man wear boots, socks over his trousers, an oxford, and a sophisticated shawl sweat shirt. The clothing pieces reveal mainly 'cotton' and 'wool, cashmere blends', usually what the Last People placed on their fashion garments for luxuriant purposes. It was perfect. Outrageous!
Seasons brought even rain pours and whitening storms. The grey midst above in the open space would disappear on and off like a light show, bringing the white rays onto the grounds. Sometimes the wishful man hoped for long flashes of light at a time. Giving him the sense of all that was special and secure to him. It was perfect.
The man is alone, thoughtless, pathetic. For its his brain's survival mechanism, feel only what there is to feel. Which is what is. The constant coverage over the historic memories shelter his facial reaction, leaving him emotionless. The pain of depression becomes numb after the years of The Change. Its the way it its. Its perfect.
But sometimes.. The luscious colors, random fashion garments, southern whitening storms, open the vault to his knowledge, and he finds himself, enjoys himself, remembers himself. He is happy. Its Outrageously perfect!
Sir Mitchell Toews
Here are two out of many others
Goddess of night, Nyx, watching over God of Death, Thanatos. Hypnos, God of sleep is not shown, but he is next. Nyx is the mother. Thanatos prepares a poppy for his awaiting brother while the heavy valley lays peacefully between two far away mountains, shutting the light out to bring their mothers nightly visit. The night is peaceful.
The garments sufficiently brought life to her reflection. Time and life is of the essence.
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