New1.) I've started my fall first-year course as a freshman in college.
Actually, that's it.
I have a couple more things to upload, but I'm trying one of them out so it doesn't seem so preachy.
Newest
The RiseThere is an area of Texas, south of San Antonio but north of Brownsville, which should not exist. It is stuck between extremities: the ranch country of the south, the rain of the east, the hills of the north, and the desert of the west. It is one of those places passed on road trips where the all you see is a gas station, but you wonder where the rest of the town is. There are bushes, yes, and low-lying trees, yes, but there is also cacti and sandy soil. The air feels heavy and there is an unease in it, making you want to leave quicker. But man still settled there where not even nature makes up its mind. Among this agitation of nature,The Rise
by ~keneva
There are No Accidents It was summer. Pushing across that veil of heat spikes was only possible through popsicles and lemonade. That I what They are always surrounded by: an aura of season. Don’t you ever notice? That They were constantly affirmed by a simple mental gauze or a vice. You always remember what that trigger sparks because those memories combust just with any small flame. But it is never an accident why you remember. Don’t forget those gauzes, vices, those triggers (those popsicles and lemonade). Taste them in moderation, but never relish; sugar-puppy-love is hard to brushThere are No Accidents
by ~keneva
The Blue Demon Master was meditating in the field around afternoon when Student Ra called out Master’s name from the path that ran by the field. Student Ra stumbled his way down to Master. Clearly breathless, Student Ra waited for Master to address his presence before continuing his request.The Blue Demon
Master did not even open his eyes. Student Ra carried on anyway. “Master, Student Boh and I had and argument. Student Boh says that if a man strives to bring everyone happiness but in the end is left with nothing, he as truly found joy in life. However, I believe that su
by ~keneva
Their StoryRosin slides across the bow. *Beep* Fingers slowly tune the pegs. *Beep* Chinrest set firmly on His left shoulder. *Beep* Sheets stand on their silver cradle. *Beep* Positioned, ready, calculated, He holds the bow against the strings. *Beep* He begins. The bow flies, blurring, fingers press down on the strings harder with each note passing while the rosin flings off the bow with the music flowing at a first but then the flood comes because something is missing that the bow cannot touch and the fingers cannot presTheir Story
by ~keneva
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