The boys shuffled in from the taxi, their newly-tanned skin a stark contrast to the bleak, grey sky outside. Sherlock immediately dropped their luggage once he was across the threshold, and tromped up the stairs. John followed with a weary sigh and sank onto the ouch to decompress from their long, exhausting trip to India.
A scream from downstairs brought them rushing back down to 221A, where Mrs. Hudson was doing battle with a small speckled swamp adder armed with only a broom.
After about thirteen months of counseling, Karen realized that she, indeed couldn’t deal with peoples baggage, went back to school and worked part time at Cleveland Hopkins Airport sorting peoples luggage. Counseling just wasnt for her.
He was pulling, dragging his past behind him. He avoided others at all cost. He might get close to someone. Appearances can be so appealing. Once they ask, delve deeper into who he is, and discover his luggage, his baggage, his past…. they would leave him. Again.
It’s a fucking hard, lonely road, dealing with yourself alone.
The luggage I carry is more than you will ever be able to know. I fear where I’m going more than how I will get there. Because the shadows of your soul blocks my view of tomorrow.
luggage handle, plastic string, plastic patchwork, creme spill of t-shirt arms around the leather bread, heavy in one arm and not the other. smells like goodbye when it’s empty and open in my closet.
luggage is the bags we carry around from place to place. its funny whenever I go on a trip I always have to choose the most important things to pack in my luggage because unfortunately I cannot pack everything I have.
If I had to choose only five items to take somewhere, that would be an extremely difficult task.
I carry my luggage through the security line.
“Hey Miss”, one of the security guys stops me and points to my backpack. I’m scared, but still handing it over. The guy measures it and i see that it is way too large for this stupid, cheap airline company. I’m trying to smile and using my charme. The guy looks right and left and hands me my luggage back. “Good Journey, Miss”
She looked around the room, sensing an odd atmosphere. It was dark, dirty and had a distinct smell she could not place. “So… this is where I’ll live from now on? Like, really?”
He nodded, a sly smile smile creeping over his face, his zombie-like composure making it the more scarier. Eliza had a sudden urge to run back but something held her there. Something… magical.
A whole life was contained within that one bag. His life in a black and orange zip-up hold all. This was all he had left, a few assorted belongings of minimal importance in the scale of things. A couple of soggy books, a knitted sweater (now stretched) a pair of tennis shoes, a frying pan, two plastic bowls, a plastic statue of liberty souvenir and a basketball. Everything else had been ruined in the deluge.
We carried little with us, knowing that it would only slow us down. Nathaniel had his sword, I had the clothes on my back and a second outfit to change into. Each of us carried a bag of food. We hoped it would last. We knew that it wouldn’t. And this pushed us forward faster. We pushed ourselves harder. At times we even pulled each other along by hand.
The boys shuffled in from the taxi, their newly-tanned skin a stark contrast to the bleak, grey sky outside. Sherlock immediately dropped their luggage once he was across the threshold, and tromped up the stairs. John followed with a weary sigh and sank onto the ouch to decompress from their long, exhausting trip to India.
A scream from downstairs brought them rushing back down to 221A, where Mrs. Hudson was doing battle with a small speckled swamp adder armed with only a broom.
After about thirteen months of counseling, Karen realized that she, indeed couldn’t deal with peoples baggage, went back to school and worked part time at Cleveland Hopkins Airport sorting peoples luggage. Counseling just wasnt for her.
He was pulling, dragging his past behind him. He avoided others at all cost. He might get close to someone. Appearances can be so appealing. Once they ask, delve deeper into who he is, and discover his luggage, his baggage, his past…. they would leave him. Again.
It’s a fucking hard, lonely road, dealing with yourself alone.
The luggage I carry is more than you will ever be able to know. I fear where I’m going more than how I will get there. Because the shadows of your soul blocks my view of tomorrow.
How can I wake you
And wail —
My pulse sings
A howl for your blood
That the whiteness of the
Moon
Your skin
Songs for Elysium
Smolder within me
my headlights
Cut scars
Across the highway’s
2am dream wave
Staring into nothing —
I tick like a clock
Perfect in my
Measured affections
Do you dream of abandon?
I stand in the river and walk out dry
I sleep, eventually
dreams lit by
Winking lights
Buried in the granite
That slopes above the valley
My luggage is packed.
The city is ransacked.
I danced on the embers of a fallen nation.
It was my idea of a fun vacation.
She has baggage, I have luggage.
luggage handle, plastic string, plastic patchwork, creme spill of t-shirt arms around the leather bread, heavy in one arm and not the other. smells like goodbye when it’s empty and open in my closet.
luggage is the bags we carry around from place to place. its funny whenever I go on a trip I always have to choose the most important things to pack in my luggage because unfortunately I cannot pack everything I have.
If I had to choose only five items to take somewhere, that would be an extremely difficult task.
I carry my luggage through the security line.
“Hey Miss”, one of the security guys stops me and points to my backpack. I’m scared, but still handing it over. The guy measures it and i see that it is way too large for this stupid, cheap airline company. I’m trying to smile and using my charme. The guy looks right and left and hands me my luggage back. “Good Journey, Miss”
It’s not just for the travel, it’s for the journey.
And it’s heavy, and it’s burdensome and it hurts.
And it’s not just emotional – there’s that symbol of it too; the lip-stick stain on your cheek, that scar… that hickey.
It’s terminal.
She looked around the room, sensing an odd atmosphere. It was dark, dirty and had a distinct smell she could not place. “So… this is where I’ll live from now on? Like, really?”
He nodded, a sly smile smile creeping over his face, his zombie-like composure making it the more scarier. Eliza had a sudden urge to run back but something held her there. Something… magical.
A whole life was contained within that one bag. His life in a black and orange zip-up hold all. This was all he had left, a few assorted belongings of minimal importance in the scale of things. A couple of soggy books, a knitted sweater (now stretched) a pair of tennis shoes, a frying pan, two plastic bowls, a plastic statue of liberty souvenir and a basketball. Everything else had been ruined in the deluge.
We carried little with us, knowing that it would only slow us down. Nathaniel had his sword, I had the clothes on my back and a second outfit to change into. Each of us carried a bag of food. We hoped it would last. We knew that it wouldn’t. And this pushed us forward faster. We pushed ourselves harder. At times we even pulled each other along by hand.