A huddle of them on fierce muscular horses fly in harmony. They ride fueled by the heartbreaking goodbyes of their loved ones before they left for a bleak unsure future. Soldiers. Knights. Armed men. Followers. They tense up, slow down, and jump off their breathing vehicles. They extract the blinding shining metals off the corpses and watch it regain warmth, gradually losing the blue veneer and radiating life. High pitch sounds of swords thrust in their cases. Grunting horses.
--
After a lifelong of complexities, he extends his fingers brushing against his newly discovered hard muscles under his skin. He earned them. A little down the road, he trades them for innocence. His troubled aging mind finally finds peace.
--
A gigantic black smoke slowly shrinks to one flammable point. Lots of disfigured members of living and non-living bodies integrate. You could actually observe the universe lose some of its entropy and reach higher order. An inspiring scene to watch.
--
All your favorite music figures bunch up and form bands, album by album, their music grows more exotic and impressively appealing.
--
They sit next to each other in the park. Exhausted after a long walk. Actually it was a very short walk, relativity is everything. Their frail postures seated on the bench. They just hang in there. He places his shaky hand on her thighs gracefully, she looks at him and smiles. They sleep next to each other, comforted by their rhythmic heartbeats that is the background sound of their lives. Gradually, the heartbeats grow lower, their lives blossom to a louder, busier, more violent version. Their extremes widen; more hopeful, more hopeless, more arguments, more passion. Out of love, in love all over again. Black and white, rarely grey. They stroll in a bar, have a drink. He places his coarse worn out hand on her soft thigh. Instincts arise as fiery as their burning cigarettes, as haphazard as its smokes, as loud and persistent as the music beat they eventually dance to. He is drunk on liquor, she is drunk on love. He looks at her, and for a moment, it's deathly silent, she is completely still in a mid-dance position frozen in time. He thinks she is everyone and everything, because at that moment she was. He tries to hold on to the thought so hard but fails. They sleep next to each other, his arms around her. She tears up silently because she realizes how she will forever need him. He tears up because he finally sees her soaking in her vulnerability, he likes to think. They feel bad for hurting each other before, they hug tight and never talk about it. Their love is so real, it has shreds of hatred.
She's sitting in a cafe playing with sugar packets. He takes his time watching her from the glass window as he makes his way up to her. He thinks to himself, how can someone be that happy on a boring Sunday morning? She sees him, her eyes sparkle, she thinks to herself how a lifetime of friendship grows into this? He places his hand on her thighs. It tickles, but she takes a deep breath to contain herself, to contain everything.
--
After a lifelong of complexities, he extends his fingers brushing against his newly discovered hard muscles under his skin. He earned them. A little down the road, he trades them for innocence. His troubled aging mind finally finds peace.
--
A gigantic black smoke slowly shrinks to one flammable point. Lots of disfigured members of living and non-living bodies integrate. You could actually observe the universe lose some of its entropy and reach higher order. An inspiring scene to watch.
--
All your favorite music figures bunch up and form bands, album by album, their music grows more exotic and impressively appealing.
--
They sit next to each other in the park. Exhausted after a long walk. Actually it was a very short walk, relativity is everything. Their frail postures seated on the bench. They just hang in there. He places his shaky hand on her thighs gracefully, she looks at him and smiles. They sleep next to each other, comforted by their rhythmic heartbeats that is the background sound of their lives. Gradually, the heartbeats grow lower, their lives blossom to a louder, busier, more violent version. Their extremes widen; more hopeful, more hopeless, more arguments, more passion. Out of love, in love all over again. Black and white, rarely grey. They stroll in a bar, have a drink. He places his coarse worn out hand on her soft thigh. Instincts arise as fiery as their burning cigarettes, as haphazard as its smokes, as loud and persistent as the music beat they eventually dance to. He is drunk on liquor, she is drunk on love. He looks at her, and for a moment, it's deathly silent, she is completely still in a mid-dance position frozen in time. He thinks she is everyone and everything, because at that moment she was. He tries to hold on to the thought so hard but fails. They sleep next to each other, his arms around her. She tears up silently because she realizes how she will forever need him. He tears up because he finally sees her soaking in her vulnerability, he likes to think. They feel bad for hurting each other before, they hug tight and never talk about it. Their love is so real, it has shreds of hatred.
She's sitting in a cafe playing with sugar packets. He takes his time watching her from the glass window as he makes his way up to her. He thinks to himself, how can someone be that happy on a boring Sunday morning? She sees him, her eyes sparkle, she thinks to herself how a lifetime of friendship grows into this? He places his hand on her thighs. It tickles, but she takes a deep breath to contain herself, to contain everything.
