the stairs felt like forever, each step painful in his joints. How long had he been climbing? He needed to get out of this place, he had to keep going, but he was tired and all he wanted was rest.
How many steps does it take to bake a cake? I’ll never know because I don’t even want to open the box of better crocker batter. But I know the first step is to want to do something nice for someone. You’re making a cake for someone, maybe just yourself, and that’s nice.
I looked across the huge expanse of bridge – broken down bridge no less, and realized how many steps it would take to cross. Like my life, my gambles – how many steps does it take to win? to achieve at least one thing
Steps: You either take steps back or forth in life. Its your choice, or maybe it’s destiny’s. Footsteps: You see my imprints of my foot in the steps that I take everywhere
I just did. I thought I was done and then something happened. I am not sure what I have done wrong. I was writing about a family dinner, like everyone else would and at the end, I heard a gong and it was over although I could type more my work was not saved. I am not sure what I did wrong
I had a great day today. I went to see a movie with the whole family. It was quite interesting although i found it boring at times. When we were done, we went home for dinner. I liked the dinner as well, even though my wife said that it was overcooked
Her foot broke the water’s surface, tentative, ready to pull back at the first sign of danger. Of something wrong. But nothing happened; the waves lapped quietly at her toes and buried her deeper in the sand with every pass. She took another step. The water was cool and inviting, innocent, soothing. And she smiled.
She took one step up the stairs and had to stop. “I can’t.”
Her sister took her arm. “You have to.”
“I really can’t, Denise, can we please just go home?”
“Come on, a couple steps.”
She took another. She felt confusion overtake her peripheral vision.
It takes seven steps to get up in the morning. The first one is to stop thinking about you. The second, third, fourth, and fifth are to fail miserably and think about the way you move and dress and the way your hair falls and the way your laugh tilts up at the end as if you want to keep on laughing forever. I know that you do. The sixth step is to pretend not to think about you. The seventh step is to forget to forget to think about you.
the time is of the first time as i hear the birds quark and the steps to the slipper on the carpet and the whiiring of the processor and the tapping steps of the letters on the keyboarda. i dare not go quickly.
I took two steps into the house before I pitched forward, my knees buckling as if all the joints in my legs had been unraveled and the bones reduced to a fine, fragrant powder. My face made contact with the floor as if I were meant to kiss it, and as I lay there, I wanted to speak, but the words dissolved into puddles in my mouth.
It’s either 30,000 or 3,000. Far too much or not even approaching enough. A life only lived in burst of a few hours. Everything else is a commute, a shuffle between those moments, pulling further apart until the next one isn’t visible. Each movement forward increasingly tedious, until nothing has moved for hours, for days. Everyday, not even approaching enough, brought on by the little blocks of time of far too much. 30,000, 3,000, …0, circular, endless, beginning and ending, placeholder, motionless.
They disappeared into the shadows, but even in the full gold of daylight I wouldn’t have been able to see them. My bleary eyes were heavy and I was stumbling, heavy footed, up and up into the darkness.
the stairs felt like forever, each step painful in his joints. How long had he been climbing? He needed to get out of this place, he had to keep going, but he was tired and all he wanted was rest.
How many steps does it take to bake a cake? I’ll never know because I don’t even want to open the box of better crocker batter. But I know the first step is to want to do something nice for someone. You’re making a cake for someone, maybe just yourself, and that’s nice.
I looked across the huge expanse of bridge – broken down bridge no less, and realized how many steps it would take to cross. Like my life, my gambles – how many steps does it take to win? to achieve at least one thing
Steps: You either take steps back or forth in life. Its your choice, or maybe it’s destiny’s. Footsteps: You see my imprints of my foot in the steps that I take everywhere
I just did. I thought I was done and then something happened. I am not sure what I have done wrong. I was writing about a family dinner, like everyone else would and at the end, I heard a gong and it was over although I could type more my work was not saved. I am not sure what I did wrong
I had a great day today. I went to see a movie with the whole family. It was quite interesting although i found it boring at times. When we were done, we went home for dinner. I liked the dinner as well, even though my wife said that it was overcooked
The steps I took to avoid this place, and yet here I stand.
Her foot broke the water’s surface, tentative, ready to pull back at the first sign of danger. Of something wrong. But nothing happened; the waves lapped quietly at her toes and buried her deeper in the sand with every pass. She took another step. The water was cool and inviting, innocent, soothing. And she smiled.
She took one step up the stairs and had to stop. “I can’t.”
Her sister took her arm. “You have to.”
“I really can’t, Denise, can we please just go home?”
“Come on, a couple steps.”
She took another. She felt confusion overtake her peripheral vision.
First steps of my children oh if I had known then how far those steps would take them from me
It takes seven steps to get up in the morning. The first one is to stop thinking about you. The second, third, fourth, and fifth are to fail miserably and think about the way you move and dress and the way your hair falls and the way your laugh tilts up at the end as if you want to keep on laughing forever. I know that you do. The sixth step is to pretend not to think about you. The seventh step is to forget to forget to think about you.
the time is of the first time as i hear the birds quark and the steps to the slipper on the carpet and the whiiring of the processor and the tapping steps of the letters on the keyboarda. i dare not go quickly.
I took two steps into the house before I pitched forward, my knees buckling as if all the joints in my legs had been unraveled and the bones reduced to a fine, fragrant powder. My face made contact with the floor as if I were meant to kiss it, and as I lay there, I wanted to speak, but the words dissolved into puddles in my mouth.
It’s either 30,000 or 3,000. Far too much or not even approaching enough. A life only lived in burst of a few hours. Everything else is a commute, a shuffle between those moments, pulling further apart until the next one isn’t visible. Each movement forward increasingly tedious, until nothing has moved for hours, for days. Everyday, not even approaching enough, brought on by the little blocks of time of far too much. 30,000, 3,000, …0, circular, endless, beginning and ending, placeholder, motionless.
They disappeared into the shadows, but even in the full gold of daylight I wouldn’t have been able to see them. My bleary eyes were heavy and I was stumbling, heavy footed, up and up into the darkness.