Her checkered-patterned dress fluttered gently in the wind as he took her by the hand, leading her out into the empty square. Bright, concentrated streetlights flooded the grey-tiled floor, giving the square an isolated and almost lonely feel. Except that she felt nothing but lonely, because he was there for her and while he would probably not be there forever, for now was enough.
The pattern of shadows cast by the leaves danced madly as the wind blew through the narrow alleyway. It was a sharp cold wind under a bright yellow sun. The trees were orange and red. The world looked to be on fire but nothing was warm.
She is going to do her first sewing project during March break. At 8, she has no idea what that will be like. Anything is possible when you are 8. She wants to make something beautiful to wear, something that only she can picture.
patterns develop in our lives and we don’t even realize it or plan them to. i see all these negative patterns of thought and behavior in my life that i want to start to change. we’ve got to revisit ourselves every once in awhile– really dig deep and reflect on whether we’re truly being the person we want to be. i’m excited to take this leap and reevaluate my decisions and get rid of negative patterns.
Patterns all around the room. Floral. Striped. Polka. I’m in a room full of patterns and a door on each different pattern. I wonder… Is this a test? Am I supposed to pick a certain door? Does this determine by personality? Is this life or death? I think I’ll pick floral. Polka gives me a headache and stripes make me think of wallpaper. Floral it is. So pretty and chique. And this is it. Open the door. Find my reality. And I open it and it’s you. Standing there, with flowers wanting to hold me in your arms. I’m where I’m supposed to be.
He’s write a beautiful tale, read hers, and then talk to her. Even as strangers, they had a routine- write, get drunk talk, talk dirty- it went on for long enough. Till one day she realised he meant it. The dirty talk, the touch and everything that she didn’t.
The pattern on the quilt was intricate and beautiful. It seemed almost impossible that it was created almost 100 years ago. The colors and shapes jump from the cotton and into my imagination. I can see my great grandmother’s hands creating the masterpiece in front of the fire that burned out a century ago.
spots dots plaid colors checkers
making clothes. so hard. too much time. don’t have a sewing machine =(
those are the only patterns. exept in numbers. like math. number patterns. sequences. music.
Patterns are awesome they create images. i like patterns they make things flow. patterns are all over the universe. Patterns can be beautiful and sad They create everything in the world and are images repeated to make a certain beauty to the eye.
Her checkered-patterned dress fluttered gently in the wind as he took her by the hand, leading her out into the empty square. Bright, concentrated streetlights flooded the grey-tiled floor, giving the square an isolated and almost lonely feel. Except that she felt nothing but lonely, because he was there for her and while he would probably not be there forever, for now was enough.
The pattern of shadows cast by the leaves danced madly as the wind blew through the narrow alleyway. It was a sharp cold wind under a bright yellow sun. The trees were orange and red. The world looked to be on fire but nothing was warm.
She is going to do her first sewing project during March break. At 8, she has no idea what that will be like. Anything is possible when you are 8. She wants to make something beautiful to wear, something that only she can picture.
patterns develop in our lives and we don’t even realize it or plan them to. i see all these negative patterns of thought and behavior in my life that i want to start to change. we’ve got to revisit ourselves every once in awhile– really dig deep and reflect on whether we’re truly being the person we want to be. i’m excited to take this leap and reevaluate my decisions and get rid of negative patterns.
Patterns all around the room. Floral. Striped. Polka. I’m in a room full of patterns and a door on each different pattern. I wonder… Is this a test? Am I supposed to pick a certain door? Does this determine by personality? Is this life or death? I think I’ll pick floral. Polka gives me a headache and stripes make me think of wallpaper. Floral it is. So pretty and chique. And this is it. Open the door. Find my reality. And I open it and it’s you. Standing there, with flowers wanting to hold me in your arms. I’m where I’m supposed to be.
He’s write a beautiful tale, read hers, and then talk to her. Even as strangers, they had a routine- write, get drunk talk, talk dirty- it went on for long enough. Till one day she realised he meant it. The dirty talk, the touch and everything that she didn’t.
The pattern on the quilt was intricate and beautiful. It seemed almost impossible that it was created almost 100 years ago. The colors and shapes jump from the cotton and into my imagination. I can see my great grandmother’s hands creating the masterpiece in front of the fire that burned out a century ago.
spots dots plaid colors checkers
making clothes. so hard. too much time. don’t have a sewing machine =(
those are the only patterns. exept in numbers. like math. number patterns. sequences. music.
Patterns are awesome they create images. i like patterns they make things flow. patterns are all over the universe. Patterns can be beautiful and sad They create everything in the world and are images repeated to make a certain beauty to the eye.