(no subject)
" . . . looking up, everything else was black and white; the tree branches looked like string that had been glued onto crisp white paper by an eager four year old. i have always felt unworthy being silhouetted by the sky . . . it's so serene and forgiving, but yesterday the way i felt seemed like it could rival all beauty that the sky has ever shown. the sky seemed like a cardboard prop in a play where the actors were so good at what they did, that they did not need scripts."
seven twleve thirteen twelve four.