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The beautiful writing
I noticed the stack of papers, an attractive yet simple handwriting, a series of small pictures. And lots of white space. Oh I wish I could pour my mind fourth onto a page such. I wish I could put in the pictures that I keep folded between thoughts and memories, and let them flow onto the page in this beautiful design. That stack of papers I noticed were not written in English, I would not have understood it were I to attempt to read it, but nonetheless I wanted to pick up the stack just because of the beauty of the page. I wanted to gently and calmly appreciated each of the pages in turn even if that was all I could do. But I heard my name and I went, I left the papers behind and when I came back later they were gone.
Exaggerated after strike
A nude male figure on a bed of words, or......
