Edwin saw the giant dinosaur breathing fire at the building tops, stomping on buses and cars. He knew he had to act, change into his alter ego, Capableman, and save the day. Tugging at his necktie and unbuttoning his top shirt button as he ran along the sidewalk, dodging debris, he asked a blithe rollerblader, “Hey, where is the nearest telephone booth?”
Bambi pulled out her earbuds and cracked her chewing gum. “Ain’t none of those anymore. Ya wanna use my cell?”
a candy stand in a parking lot, a place at the movie theatre, the farmer’s market on saterday morning and a train car on the tracks. A lemonade stand and someone selling stuff for school. tooth fairies and rhymes
booths are hard to find these days, with cell phone running the world and our society in general. Phones have become an accessory to us as a whole, a crucial piece of our day to day lives. There is no room left for the fifty cent phones on main street, we the consumers have exterminated them for good. For good or for worse, these are the facts. Am I the only one who thinks that we need to slow down?
Booth: A booth can be a table booth. Or a photo booth. Or a traveling time machine disguised as a telephone booth. But what ever this booth it can symbolize so much, depending on the persons point of view.
The booth. IT is an evil invention. It contains people who sell rip off movie tickets and the word even associates with John Wilkes BOOTH, the man who killed a great President. The booth makes us uncomfortable at restaurants when we know there are six people but we somehow believe that we can fit into that 4 seater booth at Applebees. The booth is not our friend but a confinement. Run to a desk or round table, that is where reality takes place.
We slid in. Next to each other. He held my leg like he did it always and we’d just met. It was remarkable. And we talked and talked like there was no one else in the room. But there was. There were people everywhere. All of NYC was around us and it didn’t matter. And it didn’t.
I visited London for the first time in 2008 and had my classic pic in the bright red phone booth in Westminster. I loved it. I felt as though I were in another world. A world I was meant to be in my entire life. I felt free. I felt like me, the me I’ve always wanted to be. I want to go back. I want to feel like that again.
I stood at the booth and bought gifts for my parents. They don’t need anything really. Especially not more scented soaps. Too often they fill their space with things they don’t need and wonder why there’s no space to talk to each other.
If tooth is to teeth, why isn’t the plural of booth beeth?
Unfortunately, the world just doesn’t work that way.
Who uses telephone booths (beeth) these days, anyways?
Poor, poor Superman.
The booth is an evil thing. it confines people to selling rip off movie tickets and makes them uncomfortable at dining places. John Wilkes Booth was evil. Its an association that sucks!
There was only one booth left open at the restaurant for us to sit in. It was crowded and congested. Neither of us really wanted to be here. But, the inevitable truth of our ending relationship was coming. Neither of us wanted to admit it though. Neither of us wanted to admit that somehow we had fallen completely and utterly out of love with each other.
The photo booth with my friends. One of the best memories I have from when I was 15 and one of the only memories I still have documentation for stuck to my make-up smudged mirror. Looking over this Photograph of me and 3 of my friends stuffed into this card-board boxed size photobooth, I miss the simple days where everything seemed so simple and we lived for the moment.
All I can think of is that toll booth workers are supposed to have one of the highest suicide rates of any job. I always thought it would be cool to be alone in a booth all day. i suppose ‘m strange.
Booth is a shooter with sweet cotton candy teeth and a bright yellow jacket. His top hat sparkles in the stage lights and his handle-bar mustache is thick with syrup.
There is this show called bones. In this show, there is this FBI agent named booth he isnt so much of a tool. he wears colorful socks to stick it to the man, even thought, technically he is the man..weird huh? also its a form of seat. bob is cool.
the tollbooth phantom, booths in restaurants, an olde-time restaurant where the smoke lingers in the crowd and the people talk in a southern twang, a showdown between two cowboys, man i’m random much
the dunking booth was the loudest place at the fair. the kids lined up in hopes that their fave teachers, or least favorite, would sink to the bottom of the tub.
Sitting on the red plastic of the booth, eager hands stretched across the cool linoleum of the table top. Joined together, conversing of love, of happiness and most importantly, of pizza :D
The booth was dark, damp, and smelled of a combination of popcorn and pee. It didn’t matter; all she could smell was mac’s smokey cologne as they posed for picture after picture. Silly ones, kissy ones, deadpan expressions– they spent their last four dollars making memories.
i see myself now, sitting there, crouched, by the dim light. but i’m always in a telephone booth. i’ve always been disgusted by public areas, but this will suffice. i lift the receiver, begin to dial. i’m always dialing for you. the gentle click of acquiescence, and the ringing. i wait for the low grumble of your voice, and it gives me that old rush of comfort.
The linen was black, thick. It hung from every window and haunted every viewer. It masked the truth. The silver barrel dared to go between those thick curtains, aiming.
If only I had known what would happen when I took a step inside that Mall of America photo booth. I would never have even gotten out of bed that Saturday. Who would have known that Crusty Roger would be waiting inside for me, breathing through his mouth and smiling as if he’d just won a yacht or something.
Myra ran along Madison Avenue. “Crap!” she cried. “There just aren’t any.” She ducked into an alley, shrugged off her backpack, and pulled out a swath of purple material. Next came black boots, purple leggings and a black leather vest. The alley’s resident rats looked on while she transformed from mild-mannered museum curator to Victory Girl. She repacked and hid her backpack behind a dumpster. “Damn,” she sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for a good ol’ fashioned phone booth.”
train booth. plane booth. hot air balloon. diner booth. There’s a couple sitting there. Sharing a milkshake. cliche? Maybe. But how many of you thought of that when you saw the word booth?
Alone, sitting
Wait for someone
Alone in the booth
Where to go now?
Loneliness in the booth
The four walls
The only boundaries
She held the quarters
Hands shaking
Pictures tonight
Would be pictures alone
Photo booth; alone
Stepping out of the dimly lit booth was the guy they had been following. The man walked out of the cafe making meaningful eye contact with the federal agents he knew were following him. They two agents moved together to follow him pulling handguns out as they walked.
A table in a restaurant where two people sit together to get to know each other while out on a date, possibly, or with family, if you’re into formalities. I, personally, don’t like booths. They’re boring and cramped. Tables are more efficient.
was weird. He hated smells. He hated places. everything was distant. even the booth he had his over-sized ass on, was so cold; and distant. He felt like a cold bum.
I thought one word was the ‘one word’ but it turns out it was not the one word was ‘booth’ This is interesting. What is the whole idea. Can someone tell me ?
I sat at the booth. It waas bizarrely bright, red for some reason. the others were all nice colours, muted and pastels. I wondered why, but not for long. HE sat down opposite me and my breath caught. As it always does. I doin’t know why he has the effect on me he does, but i’m not complaining.
One word ..the only word is silence ..that has always been and will always be and is enough to communicate only if you know ..if you know how to listen to your heart …Silence is eternal and silence is golden.
A seat like a couch but two chairs squished together
Milkshakes in a diner
Two eyes locked on one another
Between them
The glass with two straws
Young love
The booth
I watched the movie “The Phonebooth” back in the 8th grade with Jon Lake. I don’t remember the movie, we didn’t really watch it. That’s where all the bad stuff I am today started. All with watching a movie at 4 in the morning.
It was a cloudy day. Mary noticed the first drops of rain as she walked home from work. Thunder hammered overhead, and getting soaked to the bone, she took shelter in a nearby phone booth. By the she had wiped the water from her eyes, the phone began to ring.
Edwin saw the giant dinosaur breathing fire at the building tops, stomping on buses and cars. He knew he had to act, change into his alter ego, Capableman, and save the day. Tugging at his necktie and unbuttoning his top shirt button as he ran along the sidewalk, dodging debris, he asked a blithe rollerblader, “Hey, where is the nearest telephone booth?”
Bambi pulled out her earbuds and cracked her chewing gum. “Ain’t none of those anymore. Ya wanna use my cell?”
I sat across from you, over our cups of coffee and an ashtray full of cigarette butts and I knew.
a candy stand in a parking lot, a place at the movie theatre, the farmer’s market on saterday morning and a train car on the tracks. A lemonade stand and someone selling stuff for school. tooth fairies and rhymes
booths are hard to find these days, with cell phone running the world and our society in general. Phones have become an accessory to us as a whole, a crucial piece of our day to day lives. There is no room left for the fifty cent phones on main street, we the consumers have exterminated them for good. For good or for worse, these are the facts. Am I the only one who thinks that we need to slow down?
Booth: A booth can be a table booth. Or a photo booth. Or a traveling time machine disguised as a telephone booth. But what ever this booth it can symbolize so much, depending on the persons point of view.
The booth. IT is an evil invention. It contains people who sell rip off movie tickets and the word even associates with John Wilkes BOOTH, the man who killed a great President. The booth makes us uncomfortable at restaurants when we know there are six people but we somehow believe that we can fit into that 4 seater booth at Applebees. The booth is not our friend but a confinement. Run to a desk or round table, that is where reality takes place.
We slid in. Next to each other. He held my leg like he did it always and we’d just met. It was remarkable. And we talked and talked like there was no one else in the room. But there was. There were people everywhere. All of NYC was around us and it didn’t matter. And it didn’t.
I visited London for the first time in 2008 and had my classic pic in the bright red phone booth in Westminster. I loved it. I felt as though I were in another world. A world I was meant to be in my entire life. I felt free. I felt like me, the me I’ve always wanted to be. I want to go back. I want to feel like that again.
I stood at the booth and bought gifts for my parents. They don’t need anything really. Especially not more scented soaps. Too often they fill their space with things they don’t need and wonder why there’s no space to talk to each other.
Creaking. Old, dark wood. The familiar smells of dust and literature surround you. A haven.
If tooth is to teeth, why isn’t the plural of booth beeth?
Unfortunately, the world just doesn’t work that way.
Who uses telephone booths (beeth) these days, anyways?
Poor, poor Superman.
The booth is an evil thing. it confines people to selling rip off movie tickets and makes them uncomfortable at dining places. John Wilkes Booth was evil. Its an association that sucks!
There was only one booth left open at the restaurant for us to sit in. It was crowded and congested. Neither of us really wanted to be here. But, the inevitable truth of our ending relationship was coming. Neither of us wanted to admit it though. Neither of us wanted to admit that somehow we had fallen completely and utterly out of love with each other.
The photo booth with my friends. One of the best memories I have from when I was 15 and one of the only memories I still have documentation for stuck to my make-up smudged mirror. Looking over this Photograph of me and 3 of my friends stuffed into this card-board boxed size photobooth, I miss the simple days where everything seemed so simple and we lived for the moment.
All I can think of is that toll booth workers are supposed to have one of the highest suicide rates of any job. I always thought it would be cool to be alone in a booth all day. i suppose ‘m strange.
Booth is a shooter with sweet cotton candy teeth and a bright yellow jacket. His top hat sparkles in the stage lights and his handle-bar mustache is thick with syrup.
There is this show called bones. In this show, there is this FBI agent named booth he isnt so much of a tool. he wears colorful socks to stick it to the man, even thought, technically he is the man..weird huh? also its a form of seat. bob is cool.
the tollbooth phantom, booths in restaurants, an olde-time restaurant where the smoke lingers in the crowd and the people talk in a southern twang, a showdown between two cowboys, man i’m random much
the dunking booth was the loudest place at the fair. the kids lined up in hopes that their fave teachers, or least favorite, would sink to the bottom of the tub.
Sitting on the red plastic of the booth, eager hands stretched across the cool linoleum of the table top. Joined together, conversing of love, of happiness and most importantly, of pizza :D
The booth was dark, damp, and smelled of a combination of popcorn and pee. It didn’t matter; all she could smell was mac’s smokey cologne as they posed for picture after picture. Silly ones, kissy ones, deadpan expressions– they spent their last four dollars making memories.
i see myself now, sitting there, crouched, by the dim light. but i’m always in a telephone booth. i’ve always been disgusted by public areas, but this will suffice. i lift the receiver, begin to dial. i’m always dialing for you. the gentle click of acquiescence, and the ringing. i wait for the low grumble of your voice, and it gives me that old rush of comfort.
The linen was black, thick. It hung from every window and haunted every viewer. It masked the truth. The silver barrel dared to go between those thick curtains, aiming.
If only I had known what would happen when I took a step inside that Mall of America photo booth. I would never have even gotten out of bed that Saturday. Who would have known that Crusty Roger would be waiting inside for me, breathing through his mouth and smiling as if he’d just won a yacht or something.
Myra ran along Madison Avenue. “Crap!” she cried. “There just aren’t any.” She ducked into an alley, shrugged off her backpack, and pulled out a swath of purple material. Next came black boots, purple leggings and a black leather vest. The alley’s resident rats looked on while she transformed from mild-mannered museum curator to Victory Girl. She repacked and hid her backpack behind a dumpster. “Damn,” she sighed. “What I wouldn’t give for a good ol’ fashioned phone booth.”
train booth. plane booth. hot air balloon. diner booth. There’s a couple sitting there. Sharing a milkshake. cliche? Maybe. But how many of you thought of that when you saw the word booth?
movie
toll
fair
kissing
convention
information
concierge
cubicle
business
telemarketing
tooth
Alone, sitting
Wait for someone
Alone in the booth
Where to go now?
Loneliness in the booth
The four walls
The only boundaries
She held the quarters
Hands shaking
Pictures tonight
Would be pictures alone
Photo booth; alone
Stepping out of the dimly lit booth was the guy they had been following. The man walked out of the cafe making meaningful eye contact with the federal agents he knew were following him. They two agents moved together to follow him pulling handguns out as they walked.
booth he ran in work clothes came out a maraichi, a phone booth! like clark kent comic panels n shiiit, like 3
A table in a restaurant where two people sit together to get to know each other while out on a date, possibly, or with family, if you’re into formalities. I, personally, don’t like booths. They’re boring and cramped. Tables are more efficient.
was weird. He hated smells. He hated places. everything was distant. even the booth he had his over-sized ass on, was so cold; and distant. He felt like a cold bum.
I thought one word was the ‘one word’ but it turns out it was not the one word was ‘booth’ This is interesting. What is the whole idea. Can someone tell me ?
I sat at the booth. It waas bizarrely bright, red for some reason. the others were all nice colours, muted and pastels. I wondered why, but not for long. HE sat down opposite me and my breath caught. As it always does. I doin’t know why he has the effect on me he does, but i’m not complaining.
One word ..the only word is silence ..that has always been and will always be and is enough to communicate only if you know ..if you know how to listen to your heart …Silence is eternal and silence is golden.
A seat like a couch but two chairs squished together
Milkshakes in a diner
Two eyes locked on one another
Between them
The glass with two straws
Young love
The booth
the toll booth keeps asking me for money, and this website cannot think of another word but “booth?”
I watched the movie “The Phonebooth” back in the 8th grade with Jon Lake. I don’t remember the movie, we didn’t really watch it. That’s where all the bad stuff I am today started. All with watching a movie at 4 in the morning.
art fair booth. cozy down home resturant booth, romantic last name of friend. rhymes with tooth
It was a cloudy day. Mary noticed the first drops of rain as she walked home from work. Thunder hammered overhead, and getting soaked to the bone, she took shelter in a nearby phone booth. By the she had wiped the water from her eyes, the phone began to ring.