5arahz0ey
Spiral; arched; fluting
Twisted glossy leaves
Gleaming carved Rosewood
A sickening plunge of his stomach to the bottom of the ocean and back. Moths lose themselves in the darkness not knowing which way to turn. He stumbles, twists and cranes through the blurry, muffled fog that haunts his every step. They're still there with him. Some things are easier left buried...
They marched around the square, faces resolute. She watched closely, fiddling with the ribbon on her dress. It fell, limp and creased, from her shaking hands as the horns blared with indignation. Across the street, Mrs Larsby's oversized peacock feathers quivered beside vibrant silk as she attempted to contain herself.
Failure. Her best efforts crumpled into creases and demoted themselves to back of the drawer in shame. How could this happen? What went wrong? It seemed perfect. Shame about the crack in the bottom. Everyone runs out sometime.
Speckled wings flash before his eyes. Madness ravages those susceptible to greed and prominence. He sees the crisp green that crinkles not the vibrant red that vanishes. Woe to he that descends to this. Begone with you, good-for-nothing merchant!
Magazines, make-up and mirrors cover the floor. She peers into yet another bag full of foundation, hoping to find that something extra she thinks her skin needs. When she finally finds another one she applies a large dollop, seeking to cover yet more invisible blemishes. Fake eyelashes, eye-liner, eye shadow, blusher and lipstick later she feels prepared. Ready to face the harsh judgement of strangers.
They all wear war-paint nowadays.
Printed page after printed page
Glossy lies beguilingly slick masks draped over subtle dewy fabrications
After all you needn't separate sentences from words nor fact from fiction in this industry
They know what we mean
Don't they?
I sit upright; stiff. My eyes are fixed on the space behind your head. I try not to snigger at the crooked poster. Your voice grates on. Stifling a sigh, I blink hard. That was close. My eyelids were drooping again. Not that you noticed. You punctuate your sentence with yet another excited squeal. Please, please shut up. For your own good. If I have to hear how amazing it's going to be one more time...
The Darkroom versus Adobe Lightroom: Ultimate Contest
Adobe Lightroom: I am wonderful. I make photos into perfection in minutes. Digital cameras love me.
Darkroom: It's photographs not photos. Anyway, traditional methods with proper camera are ultimately far more satisfying and worthwhile anyway. I make results that may not be perfection but are natural reality. Plus, I'm cheaper.
Adobe Lightroom has no reply and makes a dramatic exit vowing to return.
I feel the darkness closing in. Feathery blurs begin to spin and twirl around me. Someone is speaking but there's something wrong with my ears, I think they have water in them.The gilded wires disappear. Wake up, world.
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