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Post by The Observer on Feb 10, 2008 15:45:45 GMT -5
Hello, for those of you that don't know or remember me, I'm The Observer, and I pop in now and then to tell random stories, insights, and word pictures. Here is one such word-picture:
The music drifted up through the cracks of his apartment like the sweet scent of an autumn fire. He leaned back and let the music take him. Embracing and enveloping him in somber humanity. A gentle breeze swept through the open window, and he felt its presence linger on his lips like a stolen kiss. He smiled, a light flashing behind half-closed eyelids as he drank deep the sweet intoxication of human experience. He partook, almost greedily, in the communal wine of humanity that seeps forth from behind locked doors and shuttered windows. That sweet mystery that binds and holds us close as midnight approaches. As the shadows grow and mature into darkness, somewhere between mystery and desire, between the unheard of and the hoped for, lies the evening. And it was this evening draught, this divine nepenthe, that he quaffed eagerly, almost wildly, while the shadows grew in silence.
What do you think?
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