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super8Matt's most prized possession was his super eight film projector. He kept it on the floor next to his bed and every night, before he went to sleep, he would smile at it and think of the films he had watched that day. Families in the park, teenagers by the sea, children on ponies at the fair and birthday parties lit only by the glow of candles on a thickly frosted cake.
Every morning, when he woke up, he would pat it right before he threw back the blankets and got out of bed to get ready for work. The commute to work was slow and dull, all buildings and pavement and sidewalk, hardly a tree to provide some sort of reminder of life. Buildings a
poor ferdinandYou know, I think the real reason Ferdinand was such a jerk was because his name was Ferdinand. A child can't grow up under the enormous strain of being a "Ferdinand" without somehow toughening himself into becoming immune from the incredulous looks and huge guffaws that ensue once he reveals his name as yes, nothing other than the pretentiously soul-crushing fame of Ferdinand-hood. There is no good nickname for Ferdinand, and nor was his middle name, Rupert, any better. Ferdinand Rupert James. A fairly anonymous last name, yes. A last name a boy would have no problem being connected with, especially with such awkward forenames. The problem w
muh"Muh" was the best attempt at communication she could muster. It was just too hot for anything else. Maybe after she had drained her glass of ice water she could manage a real word. Maybe even two syllables!
"Muh," she said, again. Maybe not… She lifted the glass to her cheek and sighed. "Mmmmm…" she continued. "Mmmmmmm…" She moved the glass to her forehead and then drank a few sips. Maybe if she took a cold bath. All she had to do was go across the hall and turn on the water. She lazily placed the glass back on the end table next to her bed, where she was reclining, and watched as the napkin beneath it soaked up the beads of condensation. O
What Am I? Lingering in that photo...
In that simple shot (still, I feel the bullet there)
I look, and I see a woman.
I am not a woman.
I have never worked for a lifestyle,
given birth for an allowance
I have never truly loved a man.
I am not a woman.
I do not have the means to
to wake, feel the calling..(oh, it calls, but I do not answer)
and move, move, move
until I reach a place of
I am not a woman.
Sometimes, I still take the
of my childhood and
place it on shoulders of
HelicaseHelio and I were always sitting on the stairs, chatting about the lamina and occasionally making snide remarks about ribosomes. There wasn't much for us to do. Our job was to simply be, and let the RNA scribble down the letters on our foreheads when they came around every once in a while. Helio was a G, I was a C. It wasn't exactly fulfilling, I suppose. There wasn't much to be filled. So to pass the time, we talked.
"You ever wonder?" Helio asked.
"About...well...what's out there." Helio and I were rooted to the stairs, quite happily, but it was awkward to move in. He kind of twisted in the general direction of the closest pore. "Out in the cytoplasm."
"I haven't," I admitted. "What's there to wonder about?"
"That's exactly the thing. I have no idea." Helio sighed, gazing into the distance. "Somehow it feels like we play this huge, huge role in something important, but how can we when we don't even know what that something is? I want to be something that, that has
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More