Bored or just nostalgic?
The Rules:
1. Reply that you wish to take part, and I will pick four of your icons.
2. Make a post (including the meme info) and talk about the icons I chose.
3. Other people can then comment to you and make their own posts.
4. This will create a never-ending cycle of icon squee!
Thanks,
greenapricot
these ghosts inside wooden chairs
I believe that every icon should have its own story. Like every nick-nack has its chip, its character. And maybe, just maybe this little 100x100 graphic once had a life. Like some exotic looking woman just left, her fingertips sprayed, fluttering across its glossy surface. The way you can't keep your eyes away - aching to catch this modern-day jolielaide walking by, looking back. But it's still a chair. Wooden, old, desolate. Cold enough to have forgotten its own purpose. Bittersweet.
just don't bother her anymore
Freedom. Rapture. Confidence. The strength to walk away. Letting go and forgetting what needs to be forgotten. My childhood, playing in the pasture that lay beyond our backyard. A tree branch, though struck by lightening, clawing, digging into the root of her trunk and always keeping her end of the bargain when we played tetter-tatter on her lucid arm. And the curiousity, the urge, to know what lay beyond it, past the Forest... of dreams yet to make a reality, prepared... armed only with a convertible, rearview mirror, and the passing scenery.
casa della castello
'Home of the Castle' it says. My Italian isn't very good, yet regardless, life is short, and I don't want to die without knowing passion, and the heart of protection. Of being afraid to love something so much, and encourage true pain. Holding on to something so tightly, tears blur your vision of losing it. Even if it is a castle cardboard cut out. Its about what matters - and what made you who you are today.
teacup humingbird
I see little delicate, butterfly socialites at the bottom of the basement, aching for their 15 minutes of fame. The Holly Golightly's of the world that find ettiquiette their armor against rats and the Mean Reds. The notion that everybody's fake, even me, to sell out for something, or better someone. Strawberry Shortcake would be proud - two parts sugar, one part sly and one part prettiness. The art of playing Catch 22, and winning.
1. Reply that you wish to take part, and I will pick four of your icons.
2. Make a post (including the meme info) and talk about the icons I chose.
3. Other people can then comment to you and make their own posts.
4. This will create a never-ending cycle of icon squee!
Thanks,
greenapricot
these ghosts inside wooden chairs
I believe that every icon should have its own story. Like every nick-nack has its chip, its character. And maybe, just maybe this little 100x100 graphic once had a life. Like some exotic looking woman just left, her fingertips sprayed, fluttering across its glossy surface. The way you can't keep your eyes away - aching to catch this modern-day jolielaide walking by, looking back. But it's still a chair. Wooden, old, desolate. Cold enough to have forgotten its own purpose. Bittersweet.
just don't bother her anymore
Freedom. Rapture. Confidence. The strength to walk away. Letting go and forgetting what needs to be forgotten. My childhood, playing in the pasture that lay beyond our backyard. A tree branch, though struck by lightening, clawing, digging into the root of her trunk and always keeping her end of the bargain when we played tetter-tatter on her lucid arm. And the curiousity, the urge, to know what lay beyond it, past the Forest... of dreams yet to make a reality, prepared... armed only with a convertible, rearview mirror, and the passing scenery.
casa della castello
'Home of the Castle' it says. My Italian isn't very good, yet regardless, life is short, and I don't want to die without knowing passion, and the heart of protection. Of being afraid to love something so much, and encourage true pain. Holding on to something so tightly, tears blur your vision of losing it. Even if it is a castle cardboard cut out. Its about what matters - and what made you who you are today.
teacup humingbird
I see little delicate, butterfly socialites at the bottom of the basement, aching for their 15 minutes of fame. The Holly Golightly's of the world that find ettiquiette their armor against rats and the Mean Reds. The notion that everybody's fake, even me, to sell out for something, or better someone. Strawberry Shortcake would be proud - two parts sugar, one part sly and one part prettiness. The art of playing Catch 22, and winning.