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Blank apartment walls, not allowed to be painted over
The flash of teeth as a smile is directed your way
Clouds wandering across the sky
The buzzing of an amp before the music plays
Silence of a winter day
Swishing of a wedding dress
Snow, cold and pure on the tongue
Instant mashed potatoes, flakes at the bottom of the pot
Smooth vanilla ice cream handed over the counter
The warm reassurance of a hug after a long trip
Lying on a bed with clean sheets
Exhilaration after receiving good news
A empty shade that needs life, yet symbolizes life at the same time; an oxymoron of beauty.
Voter Identification LawsOne of the biggest political issues today is the up and coming debates about voter ID laws. What is a voter ID law? This is a law that requires voters to show identification in order to vote. The laws that are the strictest require a strict photo ID, and if you don't have one, you may be prevented from voting. The states that have the strictest laws and are causing the most controversy are Pennsylvania, Georgia, Indiana, Kansas, and Tennessee. A similar strict voter ID law was recently repealed in Texas.
Why would we need such strict voter ID laws to prove who you are? Supporters of such laws insist that it helps combat voter fraud. However, statistics have shown that voter fraud, at least at the polls, is slim to none, with only 86 convictions of voter fraud over a period of five years (prorepublica.org). Voter fraud is more common with absentee ballots, and these voter identification laws do nothing to prevent this kind of fraud. Instead, voter fraud prevents people from voting, such
Lessons From LettersThe handwriting spills across the page. The ink is permanently marked on the paper, not to be erased by conventional pencil erasers. There are many pages, but they are seperated in one to two page increments. Each one is nestled in its own envelope, sent to me from various times in the past.
The writing that has spilt onto the pages and the envelopes is large and nearly illegible. I mistakenly showed someone this writing once. They laughed and said it looked like a five year old had written the words on the paper. In a way, she was right, but it was rude for her to point it out in such a way.
In fact, the man writing the letters is the same age I am, and I am no longer a child. I have proven my maturity to myself, if I haven't to everyone else. Yet, to read his letters to me would be assuming that he was still a child. The words are large and lopsided, and I could write three times as much as he does on one page.
The letters themselves, as I read them again, have an air of repeating th
Doyle's CuriosityDoyle had never seen or touched a dollar bill.
Of course, he had heard about what was called now as physical moneybut it was only in the context of "It's a good thing that we all got rid of physical money a long time ago. It's really less hassle!"
Doyle was used to the concept of EC. After all, it was all he had known, and he had possessed an EC card since he was eight years old. That was the age the government gave children EC cards, and parents were required to place an allowance (however meager they wished) into the card.
EC, or electronic currency for short, was adopted by the United States and most European countries before Doyle was born, and even before his parent's time. The switch to EC had been done rather quickly, by an exective order by the president of the day, so he had heard. There had been government sponsored bonfires of paper money, and most coinage was seized by federal officials and melted into ore. That was all Doyle had heard about the transfer to EC. Most p
Family HistoryWhen Pat found out about her uncle's death, she was sad, but not sad enough to cry. After all, she didn't know Uncle Randy very well, and she had only met him on about five or six occasions. But he had seemed like a very nice manhe didn't have any enemies as far as she knew.
Her father was very upset when he heard the news. Pat's mother had been the one to pick up the phoneshe wordlessly handed it over to her father. He listened and nodded, making muted whispers now and again before hanging up. Then without a sound, he walked into her parent's bedroom, shutting the door.
It had been the only time that Pat had heard her father cry.
Pat did not go to the funeralshe was not asked by anyone, and her mother told her that she was not close enough to Uncle Randy to have to endure a funeral. So she stayed home and read in her room while her parents were gone. She remembered his smiling face and his kind words and was saddened by the fact that he wouldn't be around anymore. On
A New ChairHe sat in his comfortable chair, staring at nothing in particular. The rain lapped at the window morosely, the drops falling down the windowpane. He was older now, and there was barely any gray hair left on his head, mostly because he let time take its course.
Jack was allowing himself to get depressed, mostly because he was alone in the house for a few hours. He really didn't want to be alone today. Not because he couldn't take care of himself, but he had been paralyzed in an accident a few years ago. He could get around perfectly fine, but his motorized scooter had recently been broken, and his arthritis had been getting worse, not better.
So he was forced to sit here and lament about his life until either his nurse came back or the repairman came back with his scooter. Jack hated it. At this moment, he was hating everything. He was getting into a negative mindsethe had always tried to stay away from negative thoughts, especially in the past few years. But this time he didn't c
LatreuophobiaI wash off sick-sweet orange lipstick in front of a mirror as dusty as gothic romances. It tastes like oblivion, that is to say, like nothing my tongue can detect.
The door opens with a creak no private restroom could emulate. Some chick with blue bobbed hair and smeared eyeliner. I looked like that once. Ten years ago.
Getting the beer out of my hair is harder. Some men just can't take it when I'd rather they not kiss my feet or call me an angel or-
“Dayum girl, you look like a goddess.”
I gulp, taste of acid.
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More