He paced the deserted streets, a tear slipping down his cheek, carving a clean, wet streak across the dust and grime that had accumulated. “Gone,” he thought to himself. “All gone.” The tear hung off his chin, then reluctantly let go. The sound of the splash as it hit the dirt road resounded through the silent space.
i live in a town thats very crowded but i love it never the less i have a lot of friends next to me i really love being in it. couldn’t imagine living somewhere else. my family lives there everyone i love .
This town I’ve lived in for 62 years is not just a town — it’s full of people who care. People who care about what I’m doing now in the classroom. People who care about my children and their children — and inquire about them. This town cared about my parents — and tell me often how wonderful they were.
The town was small and quiet. It rarely got into the news. This disaster shaped the town in a way never before. Never was a person so gruesomely murdered in this little town before. Not before now that is.
it’s fascinating. i love life. let’s take a walk into the unknown, hand in hand as we reach some place in the world. probably a place with flowers and rocks. i wouldn’t mind people as well
Home, is there such thing? Maybe it is a town, in a small forest glowing in the reddish light of the night. With people’s smiles plastered all over it.
The town was barren. No one in sight. I thought I might have seen someone’s face, staring out from a window or behind one of the decaying structures, but no. No one was there. I saw no creatures, or plants. Just buildings. It was so quite with no one around, that I could hear my breath like never before. In contrast to the nonliving things surrounding me, I felt alive.
im a from a town with a municipal building and a cute little downtown square in its center. fall festivals during october got me in the mood for the holiday season with [parties and food and socialization/
I live in town but not really in a town. It’s a small city if anything. I would like to get out of town – go become one of those middle class suburbia water hose weilding persons.
Marching up and down these streets, you will see every inch of the little town; old and quiet and cobblestoned. It amazes you that this place, so small and unassuming – yet ancient, enough to have witnessed horrors and joys like you never will – could harbor more history, more secrets than you find in all your travels to the farthest regions of the world.
Ahh, if only these cement gods could talk. What stories they would have to tell.
A town, a place for people to live in, to work in, to eat, sleep and socialize. Where people get to know each other. WHere money can be made and where people are born and are killed. A place to call home to raise a family, to build home. A living breathing organism where everything and every person is like a cell. Each and everyone has it’s own unique job to fulfill and without them the whole system will crash and die.
As the girl walked down the street of her home town she remember what it was like to grow up there. The random days of walking around visiting all the local shops with her best friends. Over all she felt lucky.
towns are smaller than cities. this town was much smaller than a city. not just the town, the people too. and the animals. and the houses. everything in this town was much smaller than a city, or even a regular town. a tiny town with tiny people doing tiny things. but one day, there was a big storm and it swept the tiny town way away, to a regular-sized town, with regular-sized people, doing regular-sized things.
my place. small city. where I live. businesses, buildings, schools, homes. not the country but city life. smooth streets for bike riding. grocery stores. libraries. friends next door. parks. sirens. parties in the neighbourhood that keep me awake at night. crime.
The town. The not-quite-a-city place where people reside and are satisfied with a simple life. A Town that sits only minutes away from the big city where it is presumed to have big things happen. The town is where a lot of people want to be.
this town will be the end of me. I have to leave. I have to see what is out there for me beyond these familiar faces, familiar roads, and familiar problems. It’s all gotten too predictable. Too stuck. I was meant for more than this sorry old town.
It was a dark night. The only lights came from above, the street lamps. A stra cat scattered across the street, tampering with some mice. I stood there watching a dark figure approach me. “Hello.” He said with utter coldness. I shuttered, for I was lost in this strange town.
Sometimes she wished that she lived in town. The country was lovely, but walking would be so interesting if she could actually walk to a destination instead of just “going for a walk”. She had been the one who wanted the country home, so she couldn’t complain.
igrew up in a very small town and spent my time at the liberay and collecting rocks. I was almost picked up by a truck driver when I was about 11, the things that you look back on and they scare the bejesus out of youou
Sherlock groaned as he tried to open his eyes, and found that one of them had crusted and swelled itself shut, throbbing nearly as painfully as his left kidney. Two voices conversed somewhere to his left, but his brain was not yet ready to comprehend them.
A while later, Sherlock came to good and proper, though kept his eyes closed (from pain) to listen to his surroundings. “What do you suppose the boss will do with him?”
“Don’t care.” A gruff voice seemed tired of being there.
Sherlock cracked open his better eye and found himself tied to an uncomfortable wooden chair. “Where am I?” he creaked in a low baritone. The two large men in black suits turned towards him, one amused and the other almost seeming to not notice him at all.
“You’re in our custody,” said the first one, “and that’s all you need to know.”
“Who are you?” His further quest for knowledge earned Sherlock a firm-knuckled grind to the collarbone, along with an answer.
“I’m Mr. Stone,” spat the more stoic, shorter-haired man. “And this is my associate, Mr. Town. Our employer has business with you. Mr. World, he’s called now, though he said you’d k.o
Living amongst people who dont know you exist. They are full of love or hate, but none of which will ever touch you. They dont know you and you dont know them and it is better this way.
Or is it?
I’ve never actually been to the town. But I’ve seen it. Father goes in every two weeks, to buy supplies, but I only get as far as the meadow. He says that the townspeople are evil, that they’ll corrupt my soul.
I still haven’t given up on breaking out of this two-star town. I’ve got the green light. I’ve got a little flight. I’m going to turn this thing around.
Sugar cube houses lined in
Sucrose rows
Families chattering in crystalized awkwardness
I grew up in a neighborhood
Where childhood was sweetly savored
I grew up in an era
Where the world crumbled to the sea
Take this town down
And you steal away my youth
The silence in the van was maddening as it crossed through the half-destroyed town. Occasionally the van would hit debris in the road and jostle the occupants, often putting Jensen and the Ninja closer together, which was fine by them.
the town is purple with houses and streets air blue green grass and a pointy church building like germany with stone walkways roads and little people walking around one has a bag with random things in it now theres one with a paper bag with food in it its summer or spring.
In the town I have been living for the past five month I have been happier than I am in the town I am living now. I want to go back there… AT ONCE! I miss being there. I love my life there and I just want to live THAT life again.
my home town is Miami its nice but i just want to get out of here already. it is fun here. i love it its just to many memories already. i need something else.
in the town their are buildings that people live in, shop, and eat in. the town is where everyone gathers to talk and gossip. it is the heart of a place where people live. the mayor controls the town and the guards make sure everyone stays in place.
towns are like cities cities are like towns
i imagine a pretty little town in france
a country town
they eat cheese and drink wine
or perhaps an english town
with eighteenth century storefronts
a french farming town where the children bring milk in from the village
or an english town with little tea shops
funny we think of french cheese and english tea
Small. Empty. There is no escape and everyone in this godforsaken place knows it. But you can be the one to change that. Break the surface. Run free. For all of our sakes. Please.
this town i have lived in for years and years
this town, where i had my first steps,
my first kiss
this town where i had my heart broken
where i have become who i am
The small buildings gently surrounded life, business and people of the lively town. Everyone knew everyone, so there were always those friendly smiles that lived on people’s faces. The sun shone on the inhabitants who lived and loved where they were, their home, their life, their friends, their routine. Their town
He paced the deserted streets, a tear slipping down his cheek, carving a clean, wet streak across the dust and grime that had accumulated. “Gone,” he thought to himself. “All gone.” The tear hung off his chin, then reluctantly let go. The sound of the splash as it hit the dirt road resounded through the silent space.
i live in a town thats very crowded but i love it never the less i have a lot of friends next to me i really love being in it. couldn’t imagine living somewhere else. my family lives there everyone i love .
This town I’ve lived in for 62 years is not just a town — it’s full of people who care. People who care about what I’m doing now in the classroom. People who care about my children and their children — and inquire about them. This town cared about my parents — and tell me often how wonderful they were.
The town was small and quiet. It rarely got into the news. This disaster shaped the town in a way never before. Never was a person so gruesomely murdered in this little town before. Not before now that is.
it’s fascinating. i love life. let’s take a walk into the unknown, hand in hand as we reach some place in the world. probably a place with flowers and rocks. i wouldn’t mind people as well
A nice place. Small buildings, cobble stone streets. People with smiles who will always be nice to you. and I nice park.
Home, is there such thing? Maybe it is a town, in a small forest glowing in the reddish light of the night. With people’s smiles plastered all over it.
Small and lost in a world of unknown gestures and people looking at ne not seeing me. Let me fly away.
The town was barren. No one in sight. I thought I might have seen someone’s face, staring out from a window or behind one of the decaying structures, but no. No one was there. I saw no creatures, or plants. Just buildings. It was so quite with no one around, that I could hear my breath like never before. In contrast to the nonliving things surrounding me, I felt alive.
im a from a town with a municipal building and a cute little downtown square in its center. fall festivals during october got me in the mood for the holiday season with [parties and food and socialization/
I live in town but not really in a town. It’s a small city if anything. I would like to get out of town – go become one of those middle class suburbia water hose weilding persons.
Marching up and down these streets, you will see every inch of the little town; old and quiet and cobblestoned. It amazes you that this place, so small and unassuming – yet ancient, enough to have witnessed horrors and joys like you never will – could harbor more history, more secrets than you find in all your travels to the farthest regions of the world.
Ahh, if only these cement gods could talk. What stories they would have to tell.
A town, a place for people to live in, to work in, to eat, sleep and socialize. Where people get to know each other. WHere money can be made and where people are born and are killed. A place to call home to raise a family, to build home. A living breathing organism where everything and every person is like a cell. Each and everyone has it’s own unique job to fulfill and without them the whole system will crash and die.
As the girl walked down the street of her home town she remember what it was like to grow up there. The random days of walking around visiting all the local shops with her best friends. Over all she felt lucky.
towns are smaller than cities. this town was much smaller than a city. not just the town, the people too. and the animals. and the houses. everything in this town was much smaller than a city, or even a regular town. a tiny town with tiny people doing tiny things. but one day, there was a big storm and it swept the tiny town way away, to a regular-sized town, with regular-sized people, doing regular-sized things.
Everybody here knows too much. Yet I can’t bring myself to leave. Days, weeks, months, years, a lifetime spent in this town.
my place. small city. where I live. businesses, buildings, schools, homes. not the country but city life. smooth streets for bike riding. grocery stores. libraries. friends next door. parks. sirens. parties in the neighbourhood that keep me awake at night. crime.
The town. The not-quite-a-city place where people reside and are satisfied with a simple life. A Town that sits only minutes away from the big city where it is presumed to have big things happen. The town is where a lot of people want to be.
this town will be the end of me. I have to leave. I have to see what is out there for me beyond these familiar faces, familiar roads, and familiar problems. It’s all gotten too predictable. Too stuck. I was meant for more than this sorry old town.
It was a dark night. The only lights came from above, the street lamps. A stra cat scattered across the street, tampering with some mice. I stood there watching a dark figure approach me. “Hello.” He said with utter coldness. I shuttered, for I was lost in this strange town.
Town is like a group of people, like a village, city…
Sometimes she wished that she lived in town. The country was lovely, but walking would be so interesting if she could actually walk to a destination instead of just “going for a walk”. She had been the one who wanted the country home, so she couldn’t complain.
igrew up in a very small town and spent my time at the liberay and collecting rocks. I was almost picked up by a truck driver when I was about 11, the things that you look back on and they scare the bejesus out of youou
Sherlock groaned as he tried to open his eyes, and found that one of them had crusted and swelled itself shut, throbbing nearly as painfully as his left kidney. Two voices conversed somewhere to his left, but his brain was not yet ready to comprehend them.
A while later, Sherlock came to good and proper, though kept his eyes closed (from pain) to listen to his surroundings. “What do you suppose the boss will do with him?”
“Don’t care.” A gruff voice seemed tired of being there.
Sherlock cracked open his better eye and found himself tied to an uncomfortable wooden chair. “Where am I?” he creaked in a low baritone. The two large men in black suits turned towards him, one amused and the other almost seeming to not notice him at all.
“You’re in our custody,” said the first one, “and that’s all you need to know.”
“Who are you?” His further quest for knowledge earned Sherlock a firm-knuckled grind to the collarbone, along with an answer.
“I’m Mr. Stone,” spat the more stoic, shorter-haired man. “And this is my associate, Mr. Town. Our employer has business with you. Mr. World, he’s called now, though he said you’d k.o
That town that I used to call my home is no longer there since you left us.
Living amongst people who dont know you exist. They are full of love or hate, but none of which will ever touch you. They dont know you and you dont know them and it is better this way.
Or is it?
I’ve never actually been to the town. But I’ve seen it. Father goes in every two weeks, to buy supplies, but I only get as far as the meadow. He says that the townspeople are evil, that they’ll corrupt my soul.
I still haven’t given up on breaking out of this two-star town. I’ve got the green light. I’ve got a little flight. I’m going to turn this thing around.
Sugar cube houses lined in
Sucrose rows
Families chattering in crystalized awkwardness
I grew up in a neighborhood
Where childhood was sweetly savored
I grew up in an era
Where the world crumbled to the sea
Take this town down
And you steal away my youth
The silence in the van was maddening as it crossed through the half-destroyed town. Occasionally the van would hit debris in the road and jostle the occupants, often putting Jensen and the Ninja closer together, which was fine by them.
the town is purple with houses and streets air blue green grass and a pointy church building like germany with stone walkways roads and little people walking around one has a bag with random things in it now theres one with a paper bag with food in it its summer or spring.
In the town I have been living for the past five month I have been happier than I am in the town I am living now. I want to go back there… AT ONCE! I miss being there. I love my life there and I just want to live THAT life again.
my home town is Miami its nice but i just want to get out of here already. it is fun here. i love it its just to many memories already. i need something else.
i love my town.it is dirty and the air is polluted but it is where my heart is.
in the town their are buildings that people live in, shop, and eat in. the town is where everyone gathers to talk and gossip. it is the heart of a place where people live. the mayor controls the town and the guards make sure everyone stays in place.
The trip to town took two hours; more, if it had been raining and the road, never the best even when the weather was fine, was slick and muddy.
Don’t ask how long it took after it snowed.
towns are like cities cities are like towns
i imagine a pretty little town in france
a country town
they eat cheese and drink wine
or perhaps an english town
with eighteenth century storefronts
a french farming town where the children bring milk in from the village
or an english town with little tea shops
funny we think of french cheese and english tea
Small. Empty. There is no escape and everyone in this godforsaken place knows it. But you can be the one to change that. Break the surface. Run free. For all of our sakes. Please.
this town i have lived in for years and years
this town, where i had my first steps,
my first kiss
this town where i had my heart broken
where i have become who i am
The small buildings gently surrounded life, business and people of the lively town. Everyone knew everyone, so there were always those friendly smiles that lived on people’s faces. The sun shone on the inhabitants who lived and loved where they were, their home, their life, their friends, their routine. Their town