To braid life into a story, you must first become a character in the story. You’re the silent third on the side. It’s commonly referred to as the fly on the wall, of course. Be that outside person looking in. Then, just jot down what you see and hear.
Magic is a young girl’s braided hair. The way it sways and catches sunbeams, refusing to let go so that it can share them with the world. Everything that is life to hair is found in the wraps that her mother has gifted her.
a game where you can dilate time with a press of your finger altering the universe in sometimes unpredictable ways braiding itself in an out to form a beautiful thing. Just like the world. So many threads come together to form what we perceive to be happiness.
The two girls sat perched atop the picnic table, basking in the glow of the summer evening sun. The one girl lay her head in her companion’s lap, closing her eyes and feeling the sun on her face. The other girl fan her fingers through the girls hair, aimlessly braiding the dirty blonde strands.
i do not know what this means sounds like some altered form of a bird. thats it . nothing else is there in my mind at this moment and as I see the purple bar at the bottome heading towards the finishing line ..i m amore ner
I often thought about braiding my hair. It would look different but funky. I know now that I should not do it – not for any other reason than it doesn’t suit me. I know now, as I tried it once. It was a good thing to have tried once though. Should always be prepared to try stuff
The french braid in the little girl’s hair was so tight she thought her skin was going to peel back. But she loved how her hair was out of her face, she loved the breeze that crossed her cheeks. Especially how she was always cooler when she had one.
I’ve always wanted to learn how to french braid. They always look so beautiful and delicate and feminine. I’ve never had long hair so I’ve never been able to have the beautiful long girly braids. I am envious of those that do. It’s so beautiful and I’d never wear my hair in any other way if I could french braid every day.
My mother used to braid my hair when I was a kid for field trips to keep it out of my face. She would pull my hair so tight it would give me headaches, but it was always the perfect due for outdoors.
Her hair is nicely braided. Fancy even. The braid is silky smooth. Makes me want to touch. How pretty it makes her, becomes her, shows that she care about herself.
something that twists in and out. so beautiful and yet so simple all at the same time. i guess its like me…i feel like I am so simple and yet he thinks im beautiful. i never believe him…but i guess now i can say its true. i am a braid….simple yet beautiful all at the same time… :) ……
My mom used to brush my hair for me when I was a child. Sometimes she’d braid it. I loved the feel of the brush against my scalp and her hands in my hair. Now that I’m older, I brush her hair instead.
My high school band had an annual Butter Braid sale. The braids had become a part of my culture by the time I was a junior; it was a small-yet-big part of our school. I can’t even explain it.
Rapunzel’s locks of hair were twisted and tied into one long braid, the golden threads sparkling and glowing in the sunlight. She set her elbow on the window ledge and put her hand underneath her chin. If only freedom was an option that she could take, she wondered what was outside. She could only guess what things looked like from the books she read, which wasn’t much.
As I looked at her braid, cascading down her back, I thought, “How could I be so stupid?” I let her get away, all because I wanted to seem cool. I wanted that “player” status I guess. But now I realize that she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Try as I might I could not escape my bindings. The rope was braided. 6 distinct threads had been interwoven together in order to produce it. It was incredibly strong.
The 80’s nostalgia party was in full swing. I’d dressed as She-ra complete with blonde wig and braid. She’d spotted her He-Man an hour earlier but what was an hour when she’d loved him from afar for six long years? Her treasure, her perfection, her best friend.
The braided rope was strong as cable, the goblin observed. “That’ll do well for the purpose it’s got.”
He ran down the hallways, through the dark castle they had stolen from the dwarves, and threw the rope to his kingly master.
The much larger goblin nodded. “Good work, ropesmith.”
“It’ll do to hang the dwarf, I think!”
“Indeed, it will hang the king well.”
I tore my fuzzy winter hat off and shedded my thick eggshell white parka. It was crazy – I know; standing in the freezing winter air with nothing on but a turtleneck, jeans and riding boots. I heard someone calling my name.
“Hanna, get in here!”
“No.”
Mom went outside to get me. As we walked back into the house, she whispered, “Shoot. Your braid’s undone.”
My mommy used to braid my hair and I’d unbraid it,
She’d do it again and I’d unbraid it,
I never liked my hair that way but for some reason at times I’ll braid it.
i reached back behind my head, separated my hair into three pieces, and began to braid. just for something to do. i finished, felt it, and took it back out. this time i only took the top half of my hair to braid. i wanted to look good for you….but then again, me? looking good? it’s almost a fantasy.
Hair tied back, into the perfect braid, she reluctantly walks through the stone, the flowers blowing in the breeze. Her eyes water as she walks to that certain piece of stone, and she says, “Happy birthday, mom. We miss you.” She drops the flowers and the teddy bear, and she runs her fingers over her mother’s name.
She giggled, twirling around, just barely seeing the end of her braid as she spun in a circle. She loved her hair. It made her feel grown-up and like she knew something. It made her feel like a princess. She skipped out of her mother’s room to get dressed.
Reality is a complex, braid that weaves throughout all our lives and never untangles. The braid veers in all directions, sometimes made from nice fibers, and sometimes from bad. Breaks in the braid are all too common, unfortunately, but if you’re lucky, you’ll follow a thread that is strong and never ends.
I put a braid in my hair today.
It was snazzy.
It reminds me of being a little kid.
Braid is a weird word to write about.
I don’t know what to say.
BRAID
BRAINS
BRAID
BRAINS
BRAID BRAINS.
:)
The braid was slung around her neck, tied with a pink bow on the end. She clutched her books to her, afraid that everyone was looking at her. She walked faster, as she sensed this was true. She finally finds the room and walks in.
hair
wrapped
tenderness
sun, freckles and chlorine
your delicate fingers, run through
ah the endless bloom of summer love
quick, pass me a hair tie
the season ends in gloom
Braid. Long thick brown hair curly wisps framing her face. Freckles and pale skin. Gap between the two front teeth when she turned back to laugh at me running. Blue shirt twisting around her shoulders. She turns to laugh at me again and I smile.
If there was one thing she loved to do, it was braiding her mother’s hair. Her mom had long, thick, hair as red as strawberries, and Lucy could spend hours running her fingers through it, untangling wavy strands calmly and gently as she weaved the hair together.
Intertwined and interconnected, hair flows like sand between fingers, dancing, playing and trickling forever. Then it sits, for hours on end, in perfect organization and peace, so different from its freedom of the past, until one day it is released, and free flows again
I love to put my hair in braids. To braid your hair you make three parts andtwist each part into another and complete this action always in the same order. pippy lonstalking has to braids and red hair. We call my best friend pippy cuz she always has braids and has red hair.
many braids together are very cool. one braid is solitary and serious. two are childlike. the more the braids the older and wiser you seem. interwoven childlike qualities and a love for life.
I wish my hair was long enough for me to have a long fishtail braid going down my entire back. I want to be as skinny as the girls on tumblr, the girls that wear those braids so sexily. I want to be beautiful, like those girls, and I want to be able to have those braids. I want to be sexy too.
i never could braid my hair. one time my mom tried to braid my hair, in fourth grade, and it looked horrible. i guess that’s why i never was able to braid, because my mom never taught me how. my mom, who never taught me to braid, also never taught me to open up. or let others in. or lots of things. and she’s not around much anymore, and i don’t know how to let her back in. b/c she never taught me how.
take hair, in three sections, turn over and over until the end of the hair, tie off with a colorful hairtie, itll look really good :D
make sure to do it tight enough, otherwise the hair can fall out of place and end up looking disgusting…. haha
To braid life into a story, you must first become a character in the story. You’re the silent third on the side. It’s commonly referred to as the fly on the wall, of course. Be that outside person looking in. Then, just jot down what you see and hear.
Magic is a young girl’s braided hair. The way it sways and catches sunbeams, refusing to let go so that it can share them with the world. Everything that is life to hair is found in the wraps that her mother has gifted her.
a game where you can dilate time with a press of your finger altering the universe in sometimes unpredictable ways braiding itself in an out to form a beautiful thing. Just like the world. So many threads come together to form what we perceive to be happiness.
The thing I loved about her was that she always wore her hair in this long, golden braid. It was so simple and beautiful.
The two girls sat perched atop the picnic table, basking in the glow of the summer evening sun. The one girl lay her head in her companion’s lap, closing her eyes and feeling the sun on her face. The other girl fan her fingers through the girls hair, aimlessly braiding the dirty blonde strands.
i do not know what this means sounds like some altered form of a bird. thats it . nothing else is there in my mind at this moment and as I see the purple bar at the bottome heading towards the finishing line ..i m amore ner
I often thought about braiding my hair. It would look different but funky. I know now that I should not do it – not for any other reason than it doesn’t suit me. I know now, as I tried it once. It was a good thing to have tried once though. Should always be prepared to try stuff
The french braid in the little girl’s hair was so tight she thought her skin was going to peel back. But she loved how her hair was out of her face, she loved the breeze that crossed her cheeks. Especially how she was always cooler when she had one.
I’ve always wanted to learn how to french braid. They always look so beautiful and delicate and feminine. I’ve never had long hair so I’ve never been able to have the beautiful long girly braids. I am envious of those that do. It’s so beautiful and I’d never wear my hair in any other way if I could french braid every day.
My mother used to braid my hair when I was a kid for field trips to keep it out of my face. She would pull my hair so tight it would give me headaches, but it was always the perfect due for outdoors.
seriously. no. I am watching jumaji!
Her hair is nicely braided. Fancy even. The braid is silky smooth. Makes me want to touch. How pretty it makes her, becomes her, shows that she care about herself.
something that twists in and out. so beautiful and yet so simple all at the same time. i guess its like me…i feel like I am so simple and yet he thinks im beautiful. i never believe him…but i guess now i can say its true. i am a braid….simple yet beautiful all at the same time… :) ……
My mom used to brush my hair for me when I was a child. Sometimes she’d braid it. I loved the feel of the brush against my scalp and her hands in my hair. Now that I’m older, I brush her hair instead.
My high school band had an annual Butter Braid sale. The braids had become a part of my culture by the time I was a junior; it was a small-yet-big part of our school. I can’t even explain it.
Rapunzel’s locks of hair were twisted and tied into one long braid, the golden threads sparkling and glowing in the sunlight. She set her elbow on the window ledge and put her hand underneath her chin. If only freedom was an option that she could take, she wondered what was outside. She could only guess what things looked like from the books she read, which wasn’t much.
As I looked at her braid, cascading down her back, I thought, “How could I be so stupid?” I let her get away, all because I wanted to seem cool. I wanted that “player” status I guess. But now I realize that she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.
Try as I might I could not escape my bindings. The rope was braided. 6 distinct threads had been interwoven together in order to produce it. It was incredibly strong.
Hands carefully grasp
3 thick strands
of silk.
Weaving
over and under
pulling them all together.
Slowly forming
something beautiful.
The 80’s nostalgia party was in full swing. I’d dressed as She-ra complete with blonde wig and braid. She’d spotted her He-Man an hour earlier but what was an hour when she’d loved him from afar for six long years? Her treasure, her perfection, her best friend.
The braided rope was strong as cable, the goblin observed. “That’ll do well for the purpose it’s got.”
He ran down the hallways, through the dark castle they had stolen from the dwarves, and threw the rope to his kingly master.
The much larger goblin nodded. “Good work, ropesmith.”
“It’ll do to hang the dwarf, I think!”
“Indeed, it will hang the king well.”
I tore my fuzzy winter hat off and shedded my thick eggshell white parka. It was crazy – I know; standing in the freezing winter air with nothing on but a turtleneck, jeans and riding boots. I heard someone calling my name.
“Hanna, get in here!”
“No.”
Mom went outside to get me. As we walked back into the house, she whispered, “Shoot. Your braid’s undone.”
My mommy used to braid my hair and I’d unbraid it,
She’d do it again and I’d unbraid it,
I never liked my hair that way but for some reason at times I’ll braid it.
i reached back behind my head, separated my hair into three pieces, and began to braid. just for something to do. i finished, felt it, and took it back out. this time i only took the top half of my hair to braid. i wanted to look good for you….but then again, me? looking good? it’s almost a fantasy.
Hair tied back, into the perfect braid, she reluctantly walks through the stone, the flowers blowing in the breeze. Her eyes water as she walks to that certain piece of stone, and she says, “Happy birthday, mom. We miss you.” She drops the flowers and the teddy bear, and she runs her fingers over her mother’s name.
She giggled, twirling around, just barely seeing the end of her braid as she spun in a circle. She loved her hair. It made her feel grown-up and like she knew something. It made her feel like a princess. She skipped out of her mother’s room to get dressed.
Reality is a complex, braid that weaves throughout all our lives and never untangles. The braid veers in all directions, sometimes made from nice fibers, and sometimes from bad. Breaks in the braid are all too common, unfortunately, but if you’re lucky, you’ll follow a thread that is strong and never ends.
it is bond. maybe chemical or not. it does not matter. bond is an attachment but it should be between two things. bond is good.
I put a braid in my hair today.
It was snazzy.
It reminds me of being a little kid.
Braid is a weird word to write about.
I don’t know what to say.
BRAID
BRAINS
BRAID
BRAINS
BRAID BRAINS.
:)
The braid was slung around her neck, tied with a pink bow on the end. She clutched her books to her, afraid that everyone was looking at her. She walked faster, as she sensed this was true. She finally finds the room and walks in.
hair
wrapped
tenderness
sun, freckles and chlorine
your delicate fingers, run through
ah the endless bloom of summer love
quick, pass me a hair tie
the season ends in gloom
Braid. Long thick brown hair curly wisps framing her face. Freckles and pale skin. Gap between the two front teeth when she turned back to laugh at me running. Blue shirt twisting around her shoulders. She turns to laugh at me again and I smile.
If there was one thing she loved to do, it was braiding her mother’s hair. Her mom had long, thick, hair as red as strawberries, and Lucy could spend hours running her fingers through it, untangling wavy strands calmly and gently as she weaved the hair together.
Intertwined and interconnected, hair flows like sand between fingers, dancing, playing and trickling forever. Then it sits, for hours on end, in perfect organization and peace, so different from its freedom of the past, until one day it is released, and free flows again
I love to put my hair in braids. To braid your hair you make three parts andtwist each part into another and complete this action always in the same order. pippy lonstalking has to braids and red hair. We call my best friend pippy cuz she always has braids and has red hair.
many braids together are very cool. one braid is solitary and serious. two are childlike. the more the braids the older and wiser you seem. interwoven childlike qualities and a love for life.
i don’t know this word
I wish my hair was long enough for me to have a long fishtail braid going down my entire back. I want to be as skinny as the girls on tumblr, the girls that wear those braids so sexily. I want to be beautiful, like those girls, and I want to be able to have those braids. I want to be sexy too.
i never could braid my hair. one time my mom tried to braid my hair, in fourth grade, and it looked horrible. i guess that’s why i never was able to braid, because my mom never taught me how. my mom, who never taught me to braid, also never taught me to open up. or let others in. or lots of things. and she’s not around much anymore, and i don’t know how to let her back in. b/c she never taught me how.
take hair, in three sections, turn over and over until the end of the hair, tie off with a colorful hairtie, itll look really good :D
make sure to do it tight enough, otherwise the hair can fall out of place and end up looking disgusting…. haha