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distinction extinctionwe all are individuals, special and unique but instead of being special, being different's what we seek. it's called the "distinction extinction" as we go out on this quest determining who is not the same or different from the rest everybody wants to be distinguished just like him but wouldn't it mean that everyone would be "different" just like them? instead of being seperate we'd all be just alike and here we go again and again on this long relentless hike it's a never ending cycle that just repeats itself eventually every fad and trend is pushed back on the shelf when will we realdistinction extinction
by ~Binx1490
purpose of the artist: storyThe cold, dark fog formed a luminous blanket over the city. The sights of the gray damp streets were very uninspiring, especially for Bree Palmer, a struggling artist in Brooklyn. In her one room studio, Bree created a world beyond other peoples borders of understanding. For, in Brees imagination, there were no such things as boundaries. In the corner of the studio was a crumpled, lumpy mattress and a small table lamp on a crate. The room was fairly empty except for the floor, littered with sketches and paintings. Bree rolled her sad little swivel chair, which she rescued from the dumpster, to the large, cold window on the far wall. The youngpurpose of the artist: story
by ~Binx1490
my little mousetrap car My Little Homemade Mousetrap Carmy little mousetrap car
I formed a little homemade car of plastic, wood and paint I knew that somehow it would go but ideas just seemed so faint Then as my mind began to spin, I planned it out for days Until my work of art was done and worthy of your praise. I stared in awe at my creation in wonder, pride, and admiration. And even though it was not quite straight,
at least I finished by due date. When I went to test it out the others went so fast, And when my little car would start, the others blew right past. But as others teased my car
by ~Binx1490
hurricane: descriptive writing DESCRIPTIVE AND OBSERVATIONAL WRITING: HURRICANEShurricane: descriptive writing
The sky turned sinister gray. The wind started picking up, making leaves and twigs tango and twist together. The trees began to sway. Bending, reaching in a graceful arc towards earth. Nature’s fury was preparing to hit full throttle, bringing rain, wind, and darkness. What was this natural disaster? A hurricane. The sky ripped
by ~Binx1490
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If the people we love live on in us, the way to help them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn. People die. But real love is forever.
-Sarah, The Crow
[link] - Yaoi!!
Hope to see some more of yur stuff up soon
also I have some more poems up and such so I hope to see you arround a bit more!
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"hell is a room filled with bad poetry"
and thanks also for your compliments wow.. makes me blush!
wish you all the best and creativity for the future!
take care
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BLOG | Website | Etsy SHOP
*childrensillustrators loves your mind.
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~*Alysa*~
You have a neat site to. Thanks for taking the time to comment on mine.
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Everything can't always go right. Things will always mess up. So what? If you don't find out what's worth fighting for, what's worth living for, then you only have yourself to blame, for the pit of shame, you choose to dwell in... grow up... fly.
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Hugo Araújo - [link]
(and thanks for the beautiful remark)
tell me which one you want as your ID
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Life is a journey, not a destination; live it to its fullest
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I am AJ! The bearded wonder!!!
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