The mighty minute of the leisured blue world, as I walk to explore, there ascends a broader highway, the planks build nearby, with three men lining its balcony and singing “What do you do wrong?” Shadows seal the key passage, it is the end of the line, it is a judgement to which I can’t say no, I cannot deny it here. But an escalator emerges and carries me off to shore.
A sandstorm filled the wind, strongest in its first fifteen minutes. The hit started swaying alongside the magnitude of the wind, the house in which I went became more susceptible to drifting. Time needed to be drugged with Prozac or some seizure medicine, the ground emerged from beneath the ground, the manic hour began drizzling, sizzling gawking all over the places, sporting roars of gust, the planks began to tear in the anterior and started imploding, the wood…
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worldtraveller70 