She looked around the small loft. This was going to be home now. She couldn’t believe she finally got to this point. Maybe finally someone would take her seriously.
The abortive sorrows of men in society, living in lands of greenery and fame. They cannot stand themselves, their futile misgivings and wishes for peace and calumny. I love how America lives. It is my favorite corporation.
Carey Loftin, the stunt driver behind Steven Spielberg’s Duel, Bullitt, and Disney’s The Love Bug, is the first thing to come to my mind.
Second, I think of North Carolina.
This was it. This was my new loft. This was my new start. I looked around the empty room. I was scared but excited. I was going to be different. I was going to succeed. My future is in my hands.
i sit on my lofted bed, wondering…wondering what i am, who i have become. wondering if anyone here understands me, or can ever love me for WHO i am, not what i am. if anyone could understand that i am not a monster, that i am not a sinner, that who i love should not be theirs to judge. my love is my own.
they’re holding hands. he looks around, impressed by the light yet stunted by the space. she’s just plain amazed. she leans in and kisses him, a gleam in her eyes.
“it’s ours now.”
At the top of the loft sat a small bear. Stained with old painting, food, and wearing Mardi Gras beads around it shot neck. It would be a terrible idea to wash such a disgustingly delicate bear now. it was too old and it wouldn’t survive the wash, much less the drying. The entire bear was now caked in what was once precious memories, now a constant remind of just how dirty it was to the Uncle who had bought it for his niece so long ago.
andrew and hilary live in a loft. it is great because the cats have so much room to run and be scared of people who visit and be cats. generally speaking, i think the loft is a good thing. i visited andrew and hilary with cp a few weeks back. it was great. mostly because of the company. and the cats.
Once I slept in a loft with someone named NM. The loft was very hot but we were hot as well so it was OK. Sometimes we did other things in the loft. One time we watched 30 Rock. Lofts are good places to be.
The lofty goals fell to the floor
Mingling with the
Abandoned dreams
All of the things we’ll never have
Or forgot we even wanted
The remains of our
Frivolous youth
Loft? I remember as a younger kid we had a loft with a futon. We performed plays and music videos for my mother and we had a desk with a computer where my sisters and I played CD-ROMS on a dinosaur of a computer like “Put Put Goes to the Moon” and the one with a french girl named Madeline. When I own a house, I’ll make sure it has a loft,
i hid up in the loft for three hours, waiting and wondering how long it would take for them to notice i was gone. i slid back into the farthest recesses and sat, in the dark, waiting…
Up in the barn loft sat it’s favorites. Former beautiful, young women had make-up running down their rotting faces. Flies filled the air. The stench made me vomit right on my shoes. It was nowhere to be seen. Not knowing where it hid made my adrenline rush through every vein.
She sat in the loft, without knowing what to say. He sat there wondering what he should do or say. She couldn’t bring herself to say what she really wanted to. So they sat there alone unable to express the way that they really felt.
I wish I had a loft apartment. In New York city. With a tub in the kitchen, the toilet in a closet. A tiny cramped room with mis-matched walls. Bunk beds and futons; it sounds like a haven to me.
i sit in the apartment, looking at the new plant I got from home depot and how its leaf was already starting to wilt. I decided to take a walk, and I grabbed the keys to my place. Even though its new its not home. Not yet.
My cousins and I had jumped from the loft in the barn into the hay often over many summers.
But this time, Uncle Henry was interrupted as he worked, and left his tools behind.
Cousin Timmy yelled “Geronimo!” and jumped. Then he screamed and screamed until his cries became gurgles, then silence, as the hay turned red under him.
A man stands in a hotel lobby, his hand rubbing his chin, pacing. In another room a woman his taped to the wall; her left eye is bleeding and she’s creating a hole in the wall, banging her head into it.
The loft was a wide open space, light filtered through milky glass windows, and Arthur stood at the heart of it, hands on hips, scowling. “Hi,” Merlin said.
It had been years since i’d gone up to the kings loft. The summer king, the king of tempests and storms. Sadly he was nowhere to be found, ever elusive as rain on summers mid days.
As the night time grew colder and damper, we went into our loft to make some hot chocolate and eat raw marshmallows by the fake burning fire. As if we really cared about any of that knowing that we were in each others presence.
We slept every night that summer in that loft. I would slip out of my warm bed, and out of the safety of my home, and myself. I would meet him there, and despite the sweltering heat we would sleep in one another’s arms, and it suited us just fine.
As I was in my loft, I heard a wonderful new song. I suddenly got the urge to get up and dance. As soon as the song ended, I turned around to face to door, and saw him watching. I felt my face turn red with embarrassment.
I need a loft for my mood swings. Seriously, I need to store them in a loft somewhere downtown… somewhere forgotten, where they won’t make me seem like a paranoid schizo to my boyfriend.
beautiful loft with a mezzanine is the dream and the ultimate fate of my existence or so i hope. the loft of an artist has so much history so much of his mind and i want to live in it.
My dearest, let this be your place of regeneration. Let me cater to you and pamper you as you rest in the clouds. In the highest place with the angels is where you must lie.
She looked around the small loft. This was going to be home now. She couldn’t believe she finally got to this point. Maybe finally someone would take her seriously.
The abortive sorrows of men in society, living in lands of greenery and fame. They cannot stand themselves, their futile misgivings and wishes for peace and calumny. I love how America lives. It is my favorite corporation.
Carey Loftin, the stunt driver behind Steven Spielberg’s Duel, Bullitt, and Disney’s The Love Bug, is the first thing to come to my mind.
Second, I think of North Carolina.
This was it. This was my new loft. This was my new start. I looked around the empty room. I was scared but excited. I was going to be different. I was going to succeed. My future is in my hands.
First to come to my mind is Carey Loftin, a talented stunt driver (Bullitt and Duel).
Second, I think of North Carolina.
i sit on my lofted bed, wondering…wondering what i am, who i have become. wondering if anyone here understands me, or can ever love me for WHO i am, not what i am. if anyone could understand that i am not a monster, that i am not a sinner, that who i love should not be theirs to judge. my love is my own.
they’re holding hands. he looks around, impressed by the light yet stunted by the space. she’s just plain amazed. she leans in and kisses him, a gleam in her eyes.
“it’s ours now.”
At the top of the loft sat a small bear. Stained with old painting, food, and wearing Mardi Gras beads around it shot neck. It would be a terrible idea to wash such a disgustingly delicate bear now. it was too old and it wouldn’t survive the wash, much less the drying. The entire bear was now caked in what was once precious memories, now a constant remind of just how dirty it was to the Uncle who had bought it for his niece so long ago.
andrew and hilary live in a loft. it is great because the cats have so much room to run and be scared of people who visit and be cats. generally speaking, i think the loft is a good thing. i visited andrew and hilary with cp a few weeks back. it was great. mostly because of the company. and the cats.
Once I slept in a loft with someone named NM. The loft was very hot but we were hot as well so it was OK. Sometimes we did other things in the loft. One time we watched 30 Rock. Lofts are good places to be.
Hesitation…I’ve played this game before….
the loft of the barn was a mistyical, wondrous place for those of a mind to appreciate it. those whose innocence has not been corrupted by age.
The lofty goals fell to the floor
Mingling with the
Abandoned dreams
All of the things we’ll never have
Or forgot we even wanted
The remains of our
Frivolous youth
Higher and higher I go, there is a world above. Stairs, spiral stairs. All the way up.
Loft? I remember as a younger kid we had a loft with a futon. We performed plays and music videos for my mother and we had a desk with a computer where my sisters and I played CD-ROMS on a dinosaur of a computer like “Put Put Goes to the Moon” and the one with a french girl named Madeline. When I own a house, I’ll make sure it has a loft,
i don’t like this game.
i hid up in the loft for three hours, waiting and wondering how long it would take for them to notice i was gone. i slid back into the farthest recesses and sat, in the dark, waiting…
New york city. Up high over looking the city. Breathe the smog. Freedom, high ceilings.
Up in the barn loft sat it’s favorites. Former beautiful, young women had make-up running down their rotting faces. Flies filled the air. The stench made me vomit right on my shoes. It was nowhere to be seen. Not knowing where it hid made my adrenline rush through every vein.
Can I have a new word or it is a single word per day? I tought it
She sat in the loft, without knowing what to say. He sat there wondering what he should do or say. She couldn’t bring herself to say what she really wanted to. So they sat there alone unable to express the way that they really felt.
I has here before with you, this is not quite a loft, but it is a good and warm place to be. Stay well! bye! Do I still have time to write?
I wish I had a loft apartment. In New York city. With a tub in the kitchen, the toilet in a closet. A tiny cramped room with mis-matched walls. Bunk beds and futons; it sounds like a haven to me.
i was in the loft with layla, clouds of lie roamed out of her mouth like a lazy storm.
i sit in the apartment, looking at the new plant I got from home depot and how its leaf was already starting to wilt. I decided to take a walk, and I grabbed the keys to my place. Even though its new its not home. Not yet.
My cousins and I had jumped from the loft in the barn into the hay often over many summers.
But this time, Uncle Henry was interrupted as he worked, and left his tools behind.
Cousin Timmy yelled “Geronimo!” and jumped. Then he screamed and screamed until his cries became gurgles, then silence, as the hay turned red under him.
A man stands in a hotel lobby, his hand rubbing his chin, pacing. In another room a woman his taped to the wall; her left eye is bleeding and she’s creating a hole in the wall, banging her head into it.
she entered her nice cozy loft and sat on her duvet. She loved her new home. It was what she had always wished for. A loft in the trendy Soho a
a small living space, an urban space to live in, a pied a pierre, a trendy living space,
a cozy space to live in. open space with high ceilings –
The loft was a wide open space, light filtered through milky glass windows, and Arthur stood at the heart of it, hands on hips, scowling. “Hi,” Merlin said.
It had been years since i’d gone up to the kings loft. The summer king, the king of tempests and storms. Sadly he was nowhere to be found, ever elusive as rain on summers mid days.
As the night time grew colder and damper, we went into our loft to make some hot chocolate and eat raw marshmallows by the fake burning fire. As if we really cared about any of that knowing that we were in each others presence.
We slept every night that summer in that loft. I would slip out of my warm bed, and out of the safety of my home, and myself. I would meet him there, and despite the sweltering heat we would sleep in one another’s arms, and it suited us just fine.
As I was in my loft, I heard a wonderful new song. I suddenly got the urge to get up and dance. As soon as the song ended, I turned around to face to door, and saw him watching. I felt my face turn red with embarrassment.
I need a loft for my mood swings. Seriously, I need to store them in a loft somewhere downtown… somewhere forgotten, where they won’t make me seem like a paranoid schizo to my boyfriend.
umm. WT. Is it sorta like a deck?? IDK :( AWWW It starts with an L
she had all of these lofty ideas. switch schools, get a loan, do med school. but practicality–that, she lacked.
beautiful loft with a mezzanine is the dream and the ultimate fate of my existence or so i hope. the loft of an artist has so much history so much of his mind and i want to live in it.
Running thru the city, catching the train to the next station, traveling thousands of miles, my destination, the sheets in my loft.
My dearest, let this be your place of regeneration. Let me cater to you and pamper you as you rest in the clouds. In the highest place with the angels is where you must lie.