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[dimension_bitch]

1. Leave me a comment saying anything random, like your favorite lyric to your current favorite song. Or your favorite kind of sandwich. Something random. Whatever you like

Comments

[shred_the_sky]

Ecstasy is a glassful of tea and a piece of sugar in the mouth.

[dimension_bitch]

No, this is ecstasy.

1. What is your weapon of choice?

2. What would be the first thing you would do if you suddenly found your way back to your own world?

3. How would you woo a woman in, say... a dancing club?

4. Do you know how to do anything else like knitting?

5. ...I'm out of questions. What are your thoughts on yaoi?

[shred_the_sky]

Your lack of appreciation for Russian poetry is discouraging.

[dimension_bitch]

Discouraging for what?

[shred_the_sky]

Obviously, for quoting wonderful samples of Russian poetry to you.

[dimension_bitch]

You're just a sap.

Russia's too cold for my tastes.

[shred_the_sky]

You have obviously never been in its southern territories.

If I would be a sap, I would quote something entirely different.

[dimension_bitch]

By the time I got there, I was bored enough to leave.

Such as?

[shred_the_sky]

Silly. You should learn to be more patient.

Now, Yuuko. No self-respecting man quotes love poems in text.

[dimension_bitch]

Tell me what joys lie in the nether regions of Russia, then.

It makes me sad to see that I haven't yet trained that respect out of you. I have failed.

[shred_the_sky]

Ah, Russia. I have spent quite a bit of time there, both on work and while traveling. There is no other place where you can find such gorgeous pure-white snow. Sometimes, at winter nights, the world stands completely still and there is not a sound. It is like standing within a small world of its own. And then, there are summer days on the shores of Black Sea, when the seawater turns warm and one can relax in one of the smaller towns, perfectly content with his life.

It is a wonderful place.

Please. 'Tis not like poetry in text is as pleasant as it is when spoken aloud.

[dimension_bitch]

Ah, but see, when I was there I saw hungry and filthy children, crying mothers, frozen earth. It is a matter of perception, I suppose. Your poetic mind is playing tricks on you, my realism sometimes gets the best of me.

Then I would like to hear it spoken aloud sometime soon.

[shred_the_sky]

There is nothing poetic about my perception of things. All I do is remember that there is no greater betrayal than one who is supposed to bring hope, falling into despair. I remember the most beautiful things because they are the only ones left where I pass.

I shall do so on our next meeting, then.

[dimension_bitch]

Such memories are the best to have. Perhaps the other ones should be forgotten, hm?

I will look forward to it.