The tracks well covered, no sign of the lethargic movement. So are they, they keep it all smart. They've got so many in their palms and believe me you can't come out cos there's luxury in the pain. Pleasure, though you're dying. A soft, slow death; it's gonna take time. But fatality eventually surfaces. It's difficult to break from it. You can see the doom. But this foolishness' now nomenclature "love". You're damned, you're trapped.
Well, we're meant to live in the moment. "Cherish the moments". Yeah right; but the eagles see far. They don't cherish the moments while competitive predictors are at the ostensibly crawling in the greens, they take it to their domain, the skies.
Then, they can cherish the moments.
But the memories are there to stay, the past remains unchangeable, but the present can alter the future. So the memories are to be cherished, bad or good you can't change it. You've got to live with. Probably, it's victory or a lesson. Whatever it is, it's the past. It could be painful, decisions have to be made at some point, tears through the past could create a smiling future. Bitter experiences give sweet memories.
Stop it, no addiction is bigger than your will. Could it be substance, altitude or relationships, the spirit of a prophet is subject to the prophet.
Reading Children of Blood & bone . The narrative & descriptions felt so real. Whenever I got lost in a fantasy world of panthenaires, lionaires, maji, kosidans and magic I never wanted leave. Those moments felt like I lived the fiction & I wanted no escape. "Kwame brushes past me, running for the heart of the battle. He grips a dagger tight in his hands. Then he slashes open his palm. Blood magic. Horror settles into my bones. It’s like the world slows to a stop, stretching the seconds between this moment and the last Kwame will ever have. His blood glows with a white light, splashing as it hits the ground. In an instant the ivory light surrounds him, illuminating his dark skin like a god from above. When it reaches the top of his head, it seals his fate. A fire explodes from his skin. Smoldering embers rain from his body. Flames blaze around his form. The fire erupts from every limb, shooting out of his mouth, his arms, his legs. The blast towers meter...
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