There is a hum of magic stirring in the air where ever my feet hit the diverse textures of the Earth. Behind the mysterious hazel eyes, that are mine, dances the world created in the taste of a earn for a different world to lay my eyes on. My imagination so great that I can taste the thrill, danger and mystery of the world of my own.
Once there was me, then there was you, now this is love, what can we do, for it be so innocent and so true.
Angus was a very peculiar boy, and he lived an utterly normal life in England, there was something rather abnormal about this young eight year old boy. Besides the fact he wore socks that did not match, studying him closer you notice something. Carefully watch his nose crinkle and his eyes twitch and dart.
‘’Definitely an abnormal child!’’ dramatized Mrs. Krampetberry, the town’s local gossip.
Every lady, whom admired Mrs. Krampetberry’s bewildering knowledge, oohed and ahhed at her information. Facinorous and gregarious, that woman was really, Angus would think to himself. Gracious he was though for having no one else questioned his odd behaviour. However if Mrs. Krampetberry continued to preach of him, Angus surely would have real problems.
‘’Interesting...’’ Angus said to himself, he stood within an alley way and was looking at something limp and lifeless that lay under a dirty and worn blanket. Judiciously, Angus moved toward the obscure shape.
‘’Kooky kid,’’ a rusty voice echoed from...
To see it would be a disgust Yet to hear it is heavenly Oh the beat it creates It contains so much lust It works for your body devotedly Life or death that’s what it dictates I have yours and you have mine Just do not break it To mend it is challenging Skipping a beat is a sign My love to you I now commit Do not keep the beat awaiting For I am the heart
They skip, they limp, they shuffle, they speed walk, they are crazy people on the loose. And for what? To be what they are, consumers, buying their wants and not their needs in this hectic place known as a shopping center. The noise they stir, so great it creates a somewhat harmonious buzz. To left, the clinking of spoons hitting against the edges of a steaming coffee cup, a baby wailing hysterically in a mothers embrace, I listen as she hushes the child. Not far from them a prestigious young women in a suite is on the move in clacking vibrant red heels, passing the cafe. My attention soon turns to the right to an anxious middle aged man, not exactly focusing on his path and bumping into people, tables, trolley's and occasionally on his own two feet. ''What are you talking about? I sent them this morning!'' He half yells, biting his bottom lip. He wipes his free hand...