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Sly C. - Viva La Vida, Viva Espana
It was a splendid, sunny day in the city. The sky was clear and azure, and you could hear the spring melody of the swallows returning to their homes, as a warm breeze of wind would caress your face with its gentle touch. Madrid is such a wonderful city!
And it is in this city, that my story begins. I was young, only thirteen years old, but the memory of that day still burns vividly in me. How couldn’t it, after all?
My name is Carmelita Montoya Fox, but I’d rather make it short, so just call me Carmelita. I used to be a cheerful child who loved to make friends and play cop and robbers, thanks to my parents, which were both police agents. I always admired them, and I can say they were more than a mother and a father, they were my heroes. I remember how I would always walk my way to the police station just to enjoy their company, to feel their warm arms hugging me with love… Every evening, mom and dad would return so tired at home, that I used to prepare them the dinne
Sly C. - A ThoughtAs he was falling down, Le Paradox could feel the wind lacerate his body with its cold blow, passing through his clothes and hairs, like the hint of truth finally taking over his wounded pride. In the istants before touching with the river kilometers down, he couldn’t avoid thinking of one burning thought:
Once again, the story was repeating itself.
Like a never ending nightmare, like a funny joke of the fate: as his father before him, now it was his turn to lose everything: the dignity, the warm embrace of his loved ones, the hope of a revenge against the historical enemy and redeem the long lost honour.
But now, it was all over.
He had a brief taste of what “victory” felt like, when he managed to obtain all the Cooper canes. He didn’t get them by himself, that’s true, but the important for the skunk was that he had them.
What a sweet illusion that was. Fugacious as the wintery snowflakes dissolving in the Sun’s light.
He wished his father could h
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More