think provinces. they are rich in festivals. Masskara, Sinulog. Its actually more fun in the Philippines. I think festivals are very ethnic at the same time cultural, I want to go to Brazil, or south america for festivals. i think viva mexico have great festivals too.
party, celebration of friends and family. colorful decorations, paper latterns in trees, copious amounts of alcohol. Sitting outside under the stars beneath white twinkling christmas tree lights.
deepawali is the festival of lights. i like it very much. i like all the festivals like holi, rakshabandhan. Festivals are delightful. India is the land of festivals. They connect us from our soil. I love to celebrate each religion’s festival.
Walking through the crowd of body to body people the energy was tangible and I knew this was a once in a lifetime experience, the one and only time I would ever be at this incredible festival.
A shock of brisk wind blew past her, danced in her hair, brushed her cheek.
She paraded through the crowd, searching for Alec.
He was here, he was here, but all the masks hid their faces, and she was lost.
She stopped, twirled around and screamed for him.
everyday day we sit and wait, not taking time to smell the roses. round and round like a marry go round, damn I wish there was a festival in town. Mom & Dad smiling
Forbos peered down at the festival below. The wind was strong todayake that into account. ailure, or else he could lose his honor and his life. Tat was a sacrifice to be made. The ath of this man mattered more than his life ever could. He hid in the shadows of the bells, no one could find him, or else he woulld be forced to end their life.
The festivities ended with a kick of yarn right to the kisser. People had been writhing, the DJ had been pompadouring, and the awkward had been mingling. The stage was set, the song was sung, and a tempest of yarn fell from the ceiling in a fit of entangled rage.
The festival of the dead was held every year in the city. It was the people’s one time to mourn their losses, to put away their knives and stakes and stop thinking about the infected undead that loomed just outside their gates. Everyone took part, even the city guards. In retrospect, it was a terrible idea.
A grand festival, it seemed. Sure, we were a poor little town, but every year, this rinkadink little hamlet managed to toss together just enough good cheer to attract people from all over the region into a conglomerate of good will.
Being there, in the heat, in the muck, the mud, the sweat, the general grossness of everyones bodies being thrown against each other was worth it. Because we were all happy, we were all here for one thing, the high that music gave us. We shared that hear, that muck, that mud, that sweat, that everything, for the music.
everyday’s a festival. we party way more than we should, instead of payin attention to our responsibilities. Yet, how could some be expected to survive in a world where oppression is the key to power? We all need to escape somehow.
Cotton candy. Wrappers littering the streets. Colorful tents and awnings. Boasting prizes and treats galore. Scampering children. Fingers sticky from lollipops. Discarded tickets to collect.
As the sun came up over the buildings, the remains of last were evident. Scattered on the street were feathers, abandoned and floating in the light breeze. Sequins that had fallen off dresses, lost forever. Glitter beginning to sparkle again.
Light, sound, music smoke and drums beat in the darkening sky while the stars twinkle through the haze a man is cooking kippers on a barbecue while the ladies swirl in brightly coloured clothes and neon necklaces against the dewy grassy hill.
People pushed past each other to get a view of the dragon lanterns, some round like they came out of anime cartoons, others tall and regal as their head rotated a slow 360 degrees; cameras flashed as people snatched the fraction of a second where no one else was in front of them.
festivities, nothing much, just the ways of the world exemplified in exuberant eating and indulgence. i suppose a festival is tantamount to the epitome of gluttony. the point of overkill
Bywałem na wielu festiwalach głównie teatralnych.
Atmosfera tego wydażenia bywa niepowtarzalna o ile czujesz, że przynależysz do ludzi, którzy są tam razem z Tobą.
Kiedy czujesz porozumienie i drgania energetyczne, które pozostana w Tobie juz na zawsze.
Writing is a festival of the mind–imagination and so much fun! You might like
“Vacation from Love”, a madcap road trip, available on Kindle for just 99cents!
The light shines down upon the people as they smile and laugh and embrace the beauty of light. If we could all only live in this place of gathering, celebration, joyous anticipation then wouldn’t the world be so much more colorful, beautiful, tilted towards all that is good
She held her secret ticket to her chest and smiled. A weekend pass to The Festival of Sin. She dressed methodically, putting on her drab, grey work suit and packed her red lace thong. It was all she would need.
The streets were narrow and difficult to navigate at the best of times, but tonight it was impossible. They were filled with the beating of drums, the smell of sweat and alcohol, girls were dancing in the middle of the road and grabbing any man that happened to walk past them. Feathers and sequins from their outfits littered the ground.
Catchy music playing loud, food and vedors everywhere, rides, games. All part of the past I never had. Something I couldn’t go to anymore… unless work required me to, unless someone I had to watch went to one. But even then it wasn’t the same, I couldn’t relax and enjoy the sights, sounds and scents. I had to stay focused on work.
To celebrate what?
I feel like life is a festival and right now i’m sitting, having a break.
I need to get back out of the stands and experience the rides, the atmosphere and the fun.
I miss it.
They danced and they sang until they were the only ones left in the litter strewn streets. They must have walked for miles before they finally found a place to cosy up to each other without the fear of prying eyes encroaching on their deep exploration of their exhausted bodies. No matter how exhausted they were though, they still found enough energy to cause waves of shear delight to cascade through them. They had both agreed that this was the perfect way to spend the earth’s final night, and when the first fireballs of the meteor storm crashed to earth they were content.
We celebrate our crop-over festival every year in the month of June and ending on the first day in August. It is about the end of the sugar harvest, and the hard work that it represent.
The sounds of debauchery had never been so melodious. Everyone was drunk on sheer happiness. Laughter and smiles were freely given and graciously received. Such were the tidings at the festival.
She ran through the street, looking at every festival stall and the fireworks with excited eyes. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched her. Her innocence was mesmerising. One day, I knew she would grow up and shine as bright as those fireworks.
the three little girls dreamt of the festival – each spring at the local church – AZALEA DAY – welcoming spring and bringing to our small town a sense of excitement and wander – the pony rides, lemon sticks, flea markets, raffel & the big prize orange fish in small bowls.. something wonderful happened here each year – it was something different and new like spring itself – the possibilities were endless and everything new again
I volunteered at this event for The Baby Fold called Festival of Trees. It was through the club I was in at the time, Circle K. I was in Circle K back in Ohio but the ISU version of the club in Illinois just pissed me off. It was unorganized and cliquey and no one in the club seemed to actually care. It was like they just did dinky service projects for the credit and hours. No one put any meaning into it.
It is people from all walks of life, all shapes and sizes coming together and just celebrating life and happiness. There is always a reason to be happy
It’s been a festival.
Kind of like a big giant never ending party, where everyone is invited and it’s all fun and games and no one thinks to realize that the end has to come at some point, so we all just continue to live on in oblivion.
And now we’re here. We have two days and
it’s over,
and we’re never going to have a second shot at it all.
think provinces. they are rich in festivals. Masskara, Sinulog. Its actually more fun in the Philippines. I think festivals are very ethnic at the same time cultural, I want to go to Brazil, or south america for festivals. i think viva mexico have great festivals too.
As a child, we often attended church festivals. My memories include cakewalks, barbecue, and country bands.
party, celebration of friends and family. colorful decorations, paper latterns in trees, copious amounts of alcohol. Sitting outside under the stars beneath white twinkling christmas tree lights.
deepawali is the festival of lights. i like it very much. i like all the festivals like holi, rakshabandhan. Festivals are delightful. India is the land of festivals. They connect us from our soil. I love to celebrate each religion’s festival.
Walking through the crowd of body to body people the energy was tangible and I knew this was a once in a lifetime experience, the one and only time I would ever be at this incredible festival.
A shock of brisk wind blew past her, danced in her hair, brushed her cheek.
She paraded through the crowd, searching for Alec.
He was here, he was here, but all the masks hid their faces, and she was lost.
She stopped, twirled around and screamed for him.
everyday day we sit and wait, not taking time to smell the roses. round and round like a marry go round, damn I wish there was a festival in town. Mom & Dad smiling
Forbos peered down at the festival below. The wind was strong todayake that into account. ailure, or else he could lose his honor and his life. Tat was a sacrifice to be made. The ath of this man mattered more than his life ever could. He hid in the shadows of the bells, no one could find him, or else he woulld be forced to end their life.
The festivities ended with a kick of yarn right to the kisser. People had been writhing, the DJ had been pompadouring, and the awkward had been mingling. The stage was set, the song was sung, and a tempest of yarn fell from the ceiling in a fit of entangled rage.
The festival of the dead was held every year in the city. It was the people’s one time to mourn their losses, to put away their knives and stakes and stop thinking about the infected undead that loomed just outside their gates. Everyone took part, even the city guards. In retrospect, it was a terrible idea.
A grand festival, it seemed. Sure, we were a poor little town, but every year, this rinkadink little hamlet managed to toss together just enough good cheer to attract people from all over the region into a conglomerate of good will.
Being there, in the heat, in the muck, the mud, the sweat, the general grossness of everyones bodies being thrown against each other was worth it. Because we were all happy, we were all here for one thing, the high that music gave us. We shared that hear, that muck, that mud, that sweat, that everything, for the music.
everyday’s a festival. we party way more than we should, instead of payin attention to our responsibilities. Yet, how could some be expected to survive in a world where oppression is the key to power? We all need to escape somehow.
Cotton candy. Wrappers littering the streets. Colorful tents and awnings. Boasting prizes and treats galore. Scampering children. Fingers sticky from lollipops. Discarded tickets to collect.
As the sun came up over the buildings, the remains of last were evident. Scattered on the street were feathers, abandoned and floating in the light breeze. Sequins that had fallen off dresses, lost forever. Glitter beginning to sparkle again.
Light, sound, music smoke and drums beat in the darkening sky while the stars twinkle through the haze a man is cooking kippers on a barbecue while the ladies swirl in brightly coloured clothes and neon necklaces against the dewy grassy hill.
a festival is a big party or celebration like a carnival.
usually alot of tents and booths with different things to do in them.
People pushed past each other to get a view of the dragon lanterns, some round like they came out of anime cartoons, others tall and regal as their head rotated a slow 360 degrees; cameras flashed as people snatched the fraction of a second where no one else was in front of them.
festivities, nothing much, just the ways of the world exemplified in exuberant eating and indulgence. i suppose a festival is tantamount to the epitome of gluttony. the point of overkill
Bywałem na wielu festiwalach głównie teatralnych.
Atmosfera tego wydażenia bywa niepowtarzalna o ile czujesz, że przynależysz do ludzi, którzy są tam razem z Tobą.
Kiedy czujesz porozumienie i drgania energetyczne, które pozostana w Tobie juz na zawsze.
Writing is a festival of the mind–imagination and so much fun! You might like
“Vacation from Love”, a madcap road trip, available on Kindle for just 99cents!
The light shines down upon the people as they smile and laugh and embrace the beauty of light. If we could all only live in this place of gathering, celebration, joyous anticipation then wouldn’t the world be so much more colorful, beautiful, tilted towards all that is good
A celabration and bringing people together for an event.
She held her secret ticket to her chest and smiled. A weekend pass to The Festival of Sin. She dressed methodically, putting on her drab, grey work suit and packed her red lace thong. It was all she would need.
The streets were narrow and difficult to navigate at the best of times, but tonight it was impossible. They were filled with the beating of drums, the smell of sweat and alcohol, girls were dancing in the middle of the road and grabbing any man that happened to walk past them. Feathers and sequins from their outfits littered the ground.
Catchy music playing loud, food and vedors everywhere, rides, games. All part of the past I never had. Something I couldn’t go to anymore… unless work required me to, unless someone I had to watch went to one. But even then it wasn’t the same, I couldn’t relax and enjoy the sights, sounds and scents. I had to stay focused on work.
To celebrate what?
I feel like life is a festival and right now i’m sitting, having a break.
I need to get back out of the stands and experience the rides, the atmosphere and the fun.
I miss it.
party
fun
streamers
food
people
at night
peniata
balloons
coke
They danced and they sang until they were the only ones left in the litter strewn streets. They must have walked for miles before they finally found a place to cosy up to each other without the fear of prying eyes encroaching on their deep exploration of their exhausted bodies. No matter how exhausted they were though, they still found enough energy to cause waves of shear delight to cascade through them. They had both agreed that this was the perfect way to spend the earth’s final night, and when the first fireballs of the meteor storm crashed to earth they were content.
goernment is of the people for the people and by the people-
a child who has lost his parents-
Mud on my feet, music in my ears and joy in my heart.
We celebrate our crop-over festival every year in the month of June and ending on the first day in August. It is about the end of the sugar harvest, and the hard work that it represent.
The sounds of debauchery had never been so melodious. Everyone was drunk on sheer happiness. Laughter and smiles were freely given and graciously received. Such were the tidings at the festival.
no.
Call me dear. I will surely celebrate a festival if you speak with me before valentines day. I love you Raks. I miss you
She ran through the street, looking at every festival stall and the fireworks with excited eyes. I couldn’t help but smile as I watched her. Her innocence was mesmerising. One day, I knew she would grow up and shine as bright as those fireworks.
the three little girls dreamt of the festival – each spring at the local church – AZALEA DAY – welcoming spring and bringing to our small town a sense of excitement and wander – the pony rides, lemon sticks, flea markets, raffel & the big prize orange fish in small bowls.. something wonderful happened here each year – it was something different and new like spring itself – the possibilities were endless and everything new again
I volunteered at this event for The Baby Fold called Festival of Trees. It was through the club I was in at the time, Circle K. I was in Circle K back in Ohio but the ISU version of the club in Illinois just pissed me off. It was unorganized and cliquey and no one in the club seemed to actually care. It was like they just did dinky service projects for the credit and hours. No one put any meaning into it.
It is people from all walks of life, all shapes and sizes coming together and just celebrating life and happiness. There is always a reason to be happy
It’s been a festival.
Kind of like a big giant never ending party, where everyone is invited and it’s all fun and games and no one thinks to realize that the end has to come at some point, so we all just continue to live on in oblivion.
And now we’re here. We have two days and
it’s over,
and we’re never going to have a second shot at it all.