they sat there, staring at the page. It was a signed contract. The agreement was binding and yet neither seemed quite happy with it. Why? because the signatures on the page said that the room that they sat in was soon to be no longer theirs.
hands joined together with ribbons, the sign of a life commitment. Expensive pieces of engineered plastic, holding boots to snowboards, so much fuss over them but really? The cracked spine of a book, the spine, holding in all the ribs of the pages. A sign it has fulfilled it’s purpose and been read.
Life’s obligations are binding. Promises can hold you into situations better walked away from. Trying to get away from these binding issues can be the death of a person who doesn’t know how to say no.
Oh wow, I just said I don’t wish to brag about attachment and here this oneword made me have a link with my attachment.
Binding with the workmates is NEVER easy. I repeat NEVER!
So binding can be used in two different ways. One, being the most obvious, is the binding on a book. It can be metal, plastic, etc. On the other hand, binding is a word, to show to people who come together. Honestly, one gets binded together when they have some
I ran my fingers across the leather binding. It was warmer than I had thought. It felt nice, alive, nearly. I could almost hear the book breathing, whispering. I closed my eyes for a moment, then put it back into the shelf and walked away hastily.
The promise was binding. It kept me away, it pulled me closer. My world was the binding promise, my world was my need to know more. I couldn’t, yet I wanted to. It was killing inside, it consumed me. Binding promises, eating me up inside. Never again.
The binding of a book is very difficult to deal with sometimes. It comes off, it stays, it represents our need and want to read the book. We read, read and read, reading while sleeping, reading while sitting, walking while reading, so much so that the binding comes off and we must hold a mass of pages together to continue with the beautiful story.
Binding implies a restriction of some sort, whether or form or being. If binding form, freedom still remains in being. No one outside of yourself can ever bind your being, who you are. People are binding themselves daily. As part of their morning routine, when doing their hair or brushing their teeth.
Forever, one. The existence of mankind, all brought down to the one thing, the one property of all our cells and molecular composition. Binding. It’s what keeps us alive.
something combining two objects, for instance your feet and your snowboard or skis. you’ve got different types, but some are definitely better or more user-friendly than others, which makes you choose the best one for your personal fit
The binding was tight on her tiny hobbled feet and she stumbled over the stony path like a small demented crow. Her feet were wrapped tightly in torn white cloth and I could see the skin was shiny and purple underneath
Should I miss you so soon? I am sometimes so swept up in this feeling that, in private moments when I check over my old scars, I am not sure what I am doing right, and what I am ruining, just as before.
There are words that bind us and words that set us free,if our honor is at all tied to the things we say. There are straps that bind most, or would, were we to give into our kink and hidden desires. I choose to bind myself only with my heart.
A contract is binding. Ties bind, I bind to certain ideas, or certain ideas bind me to the ground. We bind ourselves in communities, in cliques, in groups, in certain patterns of being, becoming and believing. These bonds keep us grounded, they anchor us but they can also weigh us down. How do we choose how we are bound, for how long?
The book’s binding was perfect. Carefully sewn, thoughtfully designed. She knew she had chosen the right one, because where else would her mother write all of her memories than in a perfect, beautiful and carefully put together journal? She suddenly felt anxious to get in the train back home and finally understand all of those things about her mother she never really could.
The walls are still there. The sky is falling. Brick red never looked so dangerous. We were bound to this place and it’s binding us. We were sound in our worries. Fear’s finding us.
I am binding like a big binding ball. Several balls are binding around me. Oh! These strange balls! Oh this fixation I am fixed fixadly within! Dearest Elizabeth, please tell my mother she bores me! I desire nothing more or less. Asham.
He took her hand and she could feel him trembling. This was it. There was not turning back now. Not today anyway. Could she hide it all day. Would people see it in the photographs later. She smiled.
this word is one that makes me feel suffocatedd it tightens my shoulders and constricts my voice forcing it up to a higher pitch.
It’s a feeling I don’t like, one that backs me into a corner.
I strapped in and stood up. It was go time. I was halfway up the slope outside the gondola station, as you have to be if you have a prayer of making it past that slightly uphill bit and past the first mountain with enough momentum to prevent you from having to unstrap and walk, then sit and strap in again. What a pain in the ass.
I brushed my hands on my side, for no real reason other than to psyche myself up and feel like a bad ass, then boogied.
I am bound to you. It’s as if you were a spell and I was the object of your desire and need. We are connected by our hearts and no one can ever unbind us; I am yours. You are mine.
I knew then that this oath would bind me to him, that I would no longer be ree but his slave, imprisoned. But had I had a choice? Had I not taken the oath of loyalty my family would have died. Now, at least, they are safe. I however shall be forever tied to this villan, enslaved in his castle for the rest of my existnece.
Binding people together. You get to know someone. Intertwine with someone. You bind books. You go to the shop and bind pieces of paper together. People in China used to foot bind as a tradition. You bind by love. It’s like coming together/sticking with another.
Bind? Nothing else.
connecting together. never wanted to be seperated. whipped as some call it. we call it that too. but we also call it love and they tend to look over that. as if its just temporary. little do they know, we promised each other forever! & I’ll keep my word to you. I wouldn’t have it any other way. To wake up to you everyday.To always be by your side. I promise I’ll always be there for you.
The clothing hugged me
like cling-wrap.
I felt bound,
like I was walking
underwater,
and my legs could feel
everything
as I moved across the ocean floor.
They felt lighter somehow,
but more of a binding
than my old clothes.
More expectations
and more people
Looking at me.
Why would these people
Look at me
as I walk the ocean floor?
The stares don’t belong
underwater.
The thing was binding — she had signed it, and even though her brother had died as soon as she walked out the door, it didn’t mater as far as the contract was concerned. She was stuck. She had to honor it, even though her only reason for signing it was gone.
I wonder how easy it is to break a promise. I always feel obligated to keep my word. I don’t really like this word though. I want to type about something else- anything else. However, I can’t. I suppose I’ll have to sign up huh?
The binding was cinched tighter as she got ready. with each tightening, she felt a sense of completion. She was used to being in this already. She wasn’t a woman without it. She felt beautiful.
I didn’t sign a contract. So there were no responsibilities. I could leave. I would leave. But who would have me? I hadn’t anything but a closet full of clothes, a low paying job, and my word. They could have it all for a roof over me.
they sat there, staring at the page. It was a signed contract. The agreement was binding and yet neither seemed quite happy with it. Why? because the signatures on the page said that the room that they sat in was soon to be no longer theirs.
hands joined together with ribbons, the sign of a life commitment. Expensive pieces of engineered plastic, holding boots to snowboards, so much fuss over them but really? The cracked spine of a book, the spine, holding in all the ribs of the pages. A sign it has fulfilled it’s purpose and been read.
Life’s obligations are binding. Promises can hold you into situations better walked away from. Trying to get away from these binding issues can be the death of a person who doesn’t know how to say no.
Oh wow, I just said I don’t wish to brag about attachment and here this oneword made me have a link with my attachment.
Binding with the workmates is NEVER easy. I repeat NEVER!
So binding can be used in two different ways. One, being the most obvious, is the binding on a book. It can be metal, plastic, etc. On the other hand, binding is a word, to show to people who come together. Honestly, one gets binded together when they have some
I ran my fingers across the leather binding. It was warmer than I had thought. It felt nice, alive, nearly. I could almost hear the book breathing, whispering. I closed my eyes for a moment, then put it back into the shelf and walked away hastily.
The promise was binding. It kept me away, it pulled me closer. My world was the binding promise, my world was my need to know more. I couldn’t, yet I wanted to. It was killing inside, it consumed me. Binding promises, eating me up inside. Never again.
The binding of a book is very difficult to deal with sometimes. It comes off, it stays, it represents our need and want to read the book. We read, read and read, reading while sleeping, reading while sitting, walking while reading, so much so that the binding comes off and we must hold a mass of pages together to continue with the beautiful story.
Binding implies a restriction of some sort, whether or form or being. If binding form, freedom still remains in being. No one outside of yourself can ever bind your being, who you are. People are binding themselves daily. As part of their morning routine, when doing their hair or brushing their teeth.
Forever, one. The existence of mankind, all brought down to the one thing, the one property of all our cells and molecular composition. Binding. It’s what keeps us alive.
A blinding light. A light so bright I can’t see anything else.
something combining two objects, for instance your feet and your snowboard or skis. you’ve got different types, but some are definitely better or more user-friendly than others, which makes you choose the best one for your personal fit
The binding was tight on her tiny hobbled feet and she stumbled over the stony path like a small demented crow. Her feet were wrapped tightly in torn white cloth and I could see the skin was shiny and purple underneath
Should I miss you so soon? I am sometimes so swept up in this feeling that, in private moments when I check over my old scars, I am not sure what I am doing right, and what I am ruining, just as before.
There are words that bind us and words that set us free,if our honor is at all tied to the things we say. There are straps that bind most, or would, were we to give into our kink and hidden desires. I choose to bind myself only with my heart.
A contract is binding. Ties bind, I bind to certain ideas, or certain ideas bind me to the ground. We bind ourselves in communities, in cliques, in groups, in certain patterns of being, becoming and believing. These bonds keep us grounded, they anchor us but they can also weigh us down. How do we choose how we are bound, for how long?
The book’s binding was perfect. Carefully sewn, thoughtfully designed. She knew she had chosen the right one, because where else would her mother write all of her memories than in a perfect, beautiful and carefully put together journal? She suddenly felt anxious to get in the train back home and finally understand all of those things about her mother she never really could.
I’ll be binding my paperwork.
The walls are still there. The sky is falling. Brick red never looked so dangerous. We were bound to this place and it’s binding us. We were sound in our worries. Fear’s finding us.
fire lol queestupidez fazer gosto duh telemovel po de arroz chato amor isto little dragon musica mala quero mais
I am binding like a big binding ball. Several balls are binding around me. Oh! These strange balls! Oh this fixation I am fixed fixadly within! Dearest Elizabeth, please tell my mother she bores me! I desire nothing more or less. Asham.
He took her hand and she could feel him trembling. This was it. There was not turning back now. Not today anyway. Could she hide it all day. Would people see it in the photographs later. She smiled.
this word is one that makes me feel suffocatedd it tightens my shoulders and constricts my voice forcing it up to a higher pitch.
It’s a feeling I don’t like, one that backs me into a corner.
I strapped in and stood up. It was go time. I was halfway up the slope outside the gondola station, as you have to be if you have a prayer of making it past that slightly uphill bit and past the first mountain with enough momentum to prevent you from having to unstrap and walk, then sit and strap in again. What a pain in the ass.
I brushed my hands on my side, for no real reason other than to psyche myself up and feel like a bad ass, then boogied.
(binding)
oh, how i long to free from thee..
set me free from this tight binding
I cant breathe. My lungs are burning but no air escapes. I cant move. My mind screams its claustrophobia but the pain is only just beginning.
one binding contre-tente
like an island of frivolous wounds
serpents serve soda sweetly and slyly tighten
you don’t know how you found yourself here.
I am bound to you. It’s as if you were a spell and I was the object of your desire and need. We are connected by our hearts and no one can ever unbind us; I am yours. You are mine.
I knew then that this oath would bind me to him, that I would no longer be ree but his slave, imprisoned. But had I had a choice? Had I not taken the oath of loyalty my family would have died. Now, at least, they are safe. I however shall be forever tied to this villan, enslaved in his castle for the rest of my existnece.
Binding people together. You get to know someone. Intertwine with someone. You bind books. You go to the shop and bind pieces of paper together. People in China used to foot bind as a tradition. You bind by love. It’s like coming together/sticking with another.
Bind? Nothing else.
Binding, bound. Bond. Family bonds? Savings bonds? Love. What even is love? hah, the age old question.
connecting together. never wanted to be seperated. whipped as some call it. we call it that too. but we also call it love and they tend to look over that. as if its just temporary. little do they know, we promised each other forever! & I’ll keep my word to you. I wouldn’t have it any other way. To wake up to you everyday.To always be by your side. I promise I’ll always be there for you.
Tight ropes restricting veins. See me bloat with blood. Make stain. Inflated and Infatuated No tolerance. See me held down.
The clothing hugged me
like cling-wrap.
I felt bound,
like I was walking
underwater,
and my legs could feel
everything
as I moved across the ocean floor.
They felt lighter somehow,
but more of a binding
than my old clothes.
More expectations
and more people
Looking at me.
Why would these people
Look at me
as I walk the ocean floor?
The stares don’t belong
underwater.
Thread by thread,
you tear me apart,
and tug me closer.
I am your rag doll
Your binding to me is tight
Too tight.
I am suffocating.
The thing was binding — she had signed it, and even though her brother had died as soon as she walked out the door, it didn’t mater as far as the contract was concerned. She was stuck. She had to honor it, even though her only reason for signing it was gone.
I wonder how easy it is to break a promise. I always feel obligated to keep my word. I don’t really like this word though. I want to type about something else- anything else. However, I can’t. I suppose I’ll have to sign up huh?
of Isaac. $4.99. Get it.
The binding was cinched tighter as she got ready. with each tightening, she felt a sense of completion. She was used to being in this already. She wasn’t a woman without it. She felt beautiful.
I didn’t sign a contract. So there were no responsibilities. I could leave. I would leave. But who would have me? I hadn’t anything but a closet full of clothes, a low paying job, and my word. They could have it all for a roof over me.