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Surrealism
Surrealism
A small, tan coloured book, completely unadorned. The binding is worn and aged, the pages slightly tattered and curling towards the edges. Several small notes peek out here and there from between the sheaves of parchment and pieces of torn blue silk mark places within.
Saturday, 17 November 2007
It's Trips birthday today, he wont tell anyone at all unless I poke him I know it. I intend to make a fuss of him while I have the excuse to do it

Gareth is back, it was so good to see him, I missed him so much...yes, I am entirely selfish, but it was nice to alleviate my worries and make sure he was okay and well.
I was a little harsh with Andromeda earlier I think, I didnt mean to come across that way, but I was confused and a little disorientated about why I was in cerbies. I felt awful then, I didnt want to upset her..and every word I said just seemed to ring hollow. Gah

Im confused, again, how apt. I cant help being drawn, it scares me a little. How can I not be? The scent of lavender fills my mind, I can't think with it near, it clouds my judgement, stops my common sense..and lets be honest, I was not blessed in that area to begin with.

Tonights intrusion should keep him guessing for a bit, serves his right for confusing me.
Celestia posted @ 19:25 - Link - comments (2)
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