Cosmic Thoughts August 17
"Autumn has no sense of humor"
She heard a voice to the left of her mutter these words and was jolted out of her reverie. Isobel had gone for a walk to try and lift her spirits; she was always one for angst, and this time of year lent itself well to her own personal internal black and white late-night CBC french-canadian flick with the bad soundtrack that she always thought she should "gt", but really, if she was honest, just couldn't figure it out. Kind of like how she was impressed with, but disturbed at times by, Cirque De Soleil.
She glanced over towards the source of the voice. A toothless rubbie on a bench scowled at her and inexplicably shook his grizzled head at her. With a heavy sigh, Isobel stood up, kicked at a crumbling leaf, and decided to go comfort herself with some plum-coloured lipstick. Gotta love that fall palette.
"The Answer often requires a few extra minutes".
Rehena spent all day at the apartment. He'd gone to work all day and came home in a foul mood. She stared at the lights below and realized that saying goodbye was not an option, but what was the alternative?
She decided to distract herself with her online writing klatch and to forget about it for tonight.
"Trust your sense of judging melon".
She finally learned to buy avocadoes when they were still a little hard, and to let them ripen, instead of looking forward to its velvety goodness and bein disappointed. Someone told her to pick up the melon and knock on it. She knocked, and fancied a voice from inside answering, "Who's there"?
And then, she did.
She just about dropped the melon on the hard, over-waxed floor.
"Who eees dere?" squeaked a voice from inside the melon.
And then she woke up in a white room with a nice new white jacket with many buckles. "How retro eighties!" she observed. She was pleased.
She heard a voice to the left of her mutter these words and was jolted out of her reverie. Isobel had gone for a walk to try and lift her spirits; she was always one for angst, and this time of year lent itself well to her own personal internal black and white late-night CBC french-canadian flick with the bad soundtrack that she always thought she should "gt", but really, if she was honest, just couldn't figure it out. Kind of like how she was impressed with, but disturbed at times by, Cirque De Soleil.
She glanced over towards the source of the voice. A toothless rubbie on a bench scowled at her and inexplicably shook his grizzled head at her. With a heavy sigh, Isobel stood up, kicked at a crumbling leaf, and decided to go comfort herself with some plum-coloured lipstick. Gotta love that fall palette.
"The Answer often requires a few extra minutes".
Rehena spent all day at the apartment. He'd gone to work all day and came home in a foul mood. She stared at the lights below and realized that saying goodbye was not an option, but what was the alternative?
She decided to distract herself with her online writing klatch and to forget about it for tonight.
"Trust your sense of judging melon".
She finally learned to buy avocadoes when they were still a little hard, and to let them ripen, instead of looking forward to its velvety goodness and bein disappointed. Someone told her to pick up the melon and knock on it. She knocked, and fancied a voice from inside answering, "Who's there"?
And then, she did.
She just about dropped the melon on the hard, over-waxed floor.
"Who eees dere?" squeaked a voice from inside the melon.
And then she woke up in a white room with a nice new white jacket with many buckles. "How retro eighties!" she observed. She was pleased.