A few inches of a flat surface, little crumbs tumbling around, rectangular geometry, curative of course. Forget the herring, just watch it!

The full cone shaped pocket, the middle widely populated and fertile ground.
Like the hand of a multi-coloured mirror on a window pane, busy with compression, well acquainted velvet boots all the time. A warm gun, my trigger on your finger.

Vem kan inte älska när en pundare kommer på besök och vill ha dödsknark?

Upright it stood, clear for all to see. Came along to turn on everyone, sexy.
Thump, thump. Distinct thumps from the wall. It could be the door, which it most probably is, but it sounded as if from behind the wall. 'Number nine'. 'Numb a nine'. The thumps had stopped being thumps, now they were something out of an album, a recorded voice sampled over and over. Maybe spend a day in conversation, please?

Take a good look around you, see. I say, find yourself in the flick of it, and notice all around - the world going by your window.

At the bus stop a woman stood, bored to death - at least that's what her face seemed to tell. Earlier in the morning she had woken up from the middle of a dream, thanks to those delicate, and almost abhorrently neglected, in a manner of appreciation among ordinary people on an ordinary morning that is, rays of sunlight.

A city girl, kind of bohemian, in her head thoughts swirl. Cut fresh with grass, they were put in the bowl. Her eyes, vividly animated and alive, reflective like brass skies, profoundly exhilarated, with a strong drive, they communicate.
With a seemingly effortless leap she leapt twice across, dug deep, and with a great twirl let loose her hair. 'LIFE', she exclaimed!

Loosely, and very vague - someone came and said: 'how would I ever know, what is and what isn't gold?'. So then I told the figure how to configure.

What's meant to be, might not be what you see. Come and have some tea. Shadows on the wall, people calling out, what's so troublesome with darkness? 'Light!', might be helpful for ones sight, but someone once said: 'when everything's dead, and all the light is gone - what's left here, that returns night after night?'.

Find yourself in the flick of it - pretty girl.