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She's had a recurring dream, since childhood, of two rectangles rubbing together to create a colour that feels like an itch in her throat.
And tomorrow's news confirmed that they were plugged in to a horse meat matrix, and that the street lights were horse meat. Horse meat.
And the queen lesbian decreed there be no more asymmetrical haircuts, and there passed a bloody uprising in the valleys.
It says "child abductors out" in giant graffiti at the Holywood Arches. Just a reminder in case we were all starting to warm to them.
"Write one paragraph others may conceivably want to read in sloshing sea of unnecessary, look-at-me prose in which the world is drowning."
It seems inexplicable that we accrue wisdom, experience and information as we age only to feel incrementally less inspired to pass it on.
I have 17 shopping lists stored in my phone and no matching socks. This is the future.
Just to switch things up for a while, let's call books by women "fiction" and books by men "men's fiction".
It's okay DUP, I understand that you Feel Really Strongly about gay marriage due to your Inherited Religious Position on it.
The espresso lies to her. It tells her things only a 35-year-old can understand. To her, it is simply another beverage.
Taxi driver, silent for the journey until now, enunciates "another. nice. day" in the most sinister manner as we spin around a roundabout.
I was asked to do a Blog Hop, whereby a writer answers questions on their work in progress, by @vittoriacafolla http://wp.me/pCmCC-zf
Stop debating gay marriage as about love and commitment. It renders your point ethereal and philosophical. It's simply a human rights issue.
Pressing the painful part of her thumb where she bruised it that day as it reminded her of a hopeful feeling she'd had.
reader, moons over my hammy
