MeteorSage

a few trees many small paths the squirrel's gardens

Elder woman Bearded man Still yelled at to take out the trash

1. Don't worry about why time stopped just now. If anything, you should do your best to be as natural as possible. 2. Don't panic if you suddenly find yourself locked in her arms. 3. Since you both ride the same buses, keep her company for as long as possible. 4. It is ok if it turns out you know nothing about her culture, be honest and listen. 5. Her gestures will seem strange and inexplicable. Don't panic, she understands you more than you currently know. 6. If you get to your house before she gets to hers, and you probably will, use the time to your advantage: -Finish homework, -Research her culture, -Pandora is your friend. 7. Don'

You drift and dance on the winds, delicately wrapped in your honeyed tones. And I, your unsuspecting prey, wait for you by the same beacon every day. My thoughts are filled with your bouncing form, and my sighing words are like nectar and they bring you running. Through the distance, through the winds, to me. Your embrace is as vital to me as water is to seeds: Without the warmth of your heart beating against mine, my sighs would fall and turn to dust. With every caress, you numb my skin with a flutter of desire. With every kiss, you mix your venom with my blood. And I go back for more, more, more. Until my heart beats heavy

<MeteorSage>     The man stepped brazenly into the room, as a conqueror enters an abandoned palace- betraying the fact that he was a total stranger to these realms. <MeteorSage>     "Hello?" He called out, making sure to make his voice sound more like a greeting and less liek a querey <MeteorSage>     As he strode through the halls of porcelain tile on porcelain pillars and porcelain mosaics on the vast, domed ceiling above, he felt a sort of echo <MeteorSage>     No, a lack of echo. <MeteorSage>     The kind of imaginary disturbance in the air made only when one was certain that they weren't alone. <MeteorSag

I love you And I'm afraid to admit it I love you Though I fight against the idea I love you though it would take a miracle for us to see each other again I love you Though you traded me in for a "maybe" and a "Just for now" I don't recall to grieve or guilt but to prove: I love you, and love doesn't die.

How Scientists Hold Hands: We walk side by side in step with each other, our hands might be touching, they might not. But when we do touch, it's subtle and certain, like a breeze that rustles roses and slips their pollen away, away, to some eager stigma. When we kiss: We look into each other's eyes, then let the darkness fall over us as our lips lock like valence electrons in a flowing lewis diagram- What's yours is mine and mine is yours. And our passions are like the timid mushrooms that grow out from under peat- unnoticed until mature, and running far deeper than what's seen. And when we make love: Our bodies tightly tangled in the endle

How's Rio? I type this as my fingers are nice and icey since the house-heater broke down and we won't have a guy from sears come in to see it till Monday. So... How is that Brasillian summer? I've heard so many songs about it that I can't help but romanticize it. Perfect white sands, sprawling metropolis, young-spirited people by the millions... How is the Cristo? that icon of faith turned symbol of nationality. Whose arms spread to embrace the horizon and all the people it contains. To welcome the weary and give them rest saying, "You can belong here. You too, can be one of us..." Like the rain running from the mountains and back to the

I, Rongo- son of Whrot- Orc mercenary and mate of Allise- Human huntress of bandits. I remember that my mother used to go on many mercenary missions; its how she made money. I don’t remember my father at all; my mother said he died a long time ago. When my mother left, I’d wait at the pub. My mother trusted the bar because it was run by a proud ale-master who had been my father’s friend. When my mother came back, she’d show me the town at night, and by day we’d both wear cloaks and kept out of sight. Sometimes, we would travel to other human town to see festival days, but we only watched; and once she took me

The sun rose over the tropics. An elf smiling way too much, dressed in bright clothes and far too many jingling bells was driving a covered wagon through a forgotten trail in the jungle. Beside him, a mangy-looking human, obese and in dirtied noble's clothes held a crossbow. Soon, they would be in the city of ruins and would sell their wares, carefully bound and stocked- 14 schoolgirls from a far-off land, sent here in a gesture of friendship by two long-standing rival nations. Such easy prey for Jingle the Bard and his accomplice, Beadle the Illusionist. There were three rows on that wagon and five heads with short dark hair on each one. Mos