Not all who wander are lost
And not all who are lost, wander
Many, in fact, are stuck
In time, in place, in mind
Unmoving, they search
Never finding what they lost
Because what they lost
is the key to the chains that bind them
keeping them from finding what they are missing the most
Not realizing that what they need
was there all along, hidden inside,
buried in the coils of their desperate search
Blinded by the darkness that surrounds them,
they have lost the ability to see the light
Let's be ourselves! by maximartiskosmo, literature
Literature
Let's be ourselves!
Year of 3033. Neurobiotic recognition system turned into a core for the new world order. Primary archetypes have been strengthened as a necessary condition for regulations of almost all relations in the society, but later officially abolished. However, the corporate sector continued to use the system in order to obtain the most efficient team able to create a product which is large enough, or, conversely, focused only on a particular archetype. To this end, qualification, sometimes has been even reduced to a balance between the basic "male" and "female", by trying to get a product that allows you to meet a relatively wide, but not too dem
Here is the story… Several years ago here comes the woman and asked me to create her portrait… I told her that usually i do not answer to such requests, but i will see what i can do… A few weeks ago i have found that sketch and decide to finalize the portrait, but the trick is that i have no clue about who she was and she did not leave me any address or even name…So all i could do is cry something like "Anybody seen my baby?!" However some people told me that she is married and have six kids or something like that… Still cannot believe in this, but it explains why she never get back to portrait of her – pro
Username Mythology by ambient-avalancher, literature
Literature
Username Mythology
Before time even knew it began—before time even knew itself existed, there was a war among primordials and gods.
"Whoa! What the hell did I miss?" time said to itself, "Well, I'll be damned..." Primordials fought among each other—mostly over wages and vacation time... And, the gods were forced to choose sides...
In the Primordial War, there were the "good-guys," the "bad-guys," and then there was Ambient Avalancher—a lazy, incompetent primordial who wished not to take part in the petty squabbles of gods and primordials. He just wanted to sleep and dream about cute things and sexy monster girls...
And behold! The Primord
After World War III, Earth had become a dead wasteland. With the survivors that survived, have little supply of food and water. Which, supplied by the Government. The chemicals from the bombs, made the water contaminated. The buildings and streets were in ruins, the vehicles left abandoned to corrode. During the day, it became cloudy and gloomy and at night it becomes cooler and darker. The air was difficult to breathe from the radiation clouds that suffocated the world. So every time they went out, they have to wear gas masks. The mortals prayed to the God of the Earth to give them a third chance at life. But, so far their prayers seems to f
Mon corps est parsemé d'éclats de verre, je suis couchée sur le sol.
Mes vêtements sont en miettes, il y a beaucoup de sang autour de moi.
Je ne sais plus ce qui m'est arrivé, ni ce que je faisais dans cette ruelle si sombre et si froide au beau milieu de la nuit.
Maintenant, je sens mon corps meurtri se détendre et s'alléger. C'est une sensation tellement agréable.
La vie me quitte sans que je puisse lutter.
Je n'aurais jamais pensé mourir dans un tel endroit.
Abandonnée de tous.
Once Not Too Long Ago,Down Town In The City, There Stood Two Little Shops, Facing Each Other On A Quiet Street.
In The Window In One Of The Shops Stood A Little Paperweight Named Oswald. He's A Cheeky Little Fellow. He looked like a fine gentleman. He wore an evening suit with a black bow-tie.His black hair is long but the top of his head is bald. He Carried A Small Umbrella, He Wore A Tall Hat, And Had A Beak Like Nose. But He was No Ordinary Paperweight.
When The Night Falls Where The Street Lamps Had Their Lights On And Less People Were Here In The Streets, In The Street All Is Quiet. In The Shop’s Window, Oswald Stood Quietly Unti