My will led the way, and we found the elusive rhythm. Her skin flushed; her hair follicles domed; her lips reddened. The metaphors jumbled. A spark ignited in the depths of her ocean. Faint, then less faint, creeping toward us cautiously, the tide unlocked the gates of her hibernating libido. I paddled out to meet her. In slow motion and clothed in wind-blown linens, we splashed into each other’s arms as the symphony reached its crescendo. Just when the final note was to be carried into eternity, the conductor dropped his baton, and the instruments crashed to the ground, and a solitary oboe pushed out one flitting note. Poof: a puff of smoke.
What is this about?
This is my attic blog. It's an archive of old blog entries and posts on various blogs and blog-like things. When I close a project down, it goes here. This may move, the links aren't permanent, but if you're interested in reading stuff I've written over the years – go nuts!
CAUTION: it's about as well sorted as you'd expect an attic to be.
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