๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . (@lifesrecourse) header
๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . (@lifesrecourse) profile picture

โ €โ €โ €โ €Nothingโ €besideโ €๐‘Ÿemains.โ €Roundโ €theโ €๐‘‘ecay โ €โ €โ €โ €Ofโ €thatโ €๐‘olossalโ €Wreck,

โ €โ €he/it.
Joined May 2016
Photo by ๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . (@lifesrecourse)Photo by ๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . (@lifesrecourse)Photo by ๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . (@lifesrecourse)Photo by ๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . (@lifesrecourse)Photo by ๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . (@lifesrecourse)Photo by ๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . (@lifesrecourse)Photo by ๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . (@lifesrecourse)Photo by ๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . (@lifesrecourse)Photo by ๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . (@lifesrecourse)Photo by ๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . (@lifesrecourse)
โ € โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €๐‘oundless and ๐‘are โ €โ €The lone and level ๐‘ ands stretch ๐‘“ar ๐‘Žway. โ €
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๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . retweeted
โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ € โ €โ €๐“ฃ๐‘ค๐‘œโ €๐‘ค๐‘œ๐‘Ÿ๐‘‘๐‘ โ €would โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €comprehendโ €แดสโ €๐’‡แดœแด›แดœส€แด‡ โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โ €โธปโ €โ €โ €๐’…๐ž๐š๐ญ๐กโ €andโ €๐’‰๐ž๐ฅ๐ฅ.
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"Choice." Mouthing quietly, echoing the word. Choice. A deep voice akin to the shadow itself, a keen observation as he stands still, watching her.
choice. . . [ sheโ€™d murmur softly to herself ; eyes never leaving the captive butterfly. ]
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Is that why you choose to live here? ( A beautiful orchard and a beautiful home, but remote. Removed. His frown grows deeper as sadness weighs his shoulders. ) Only on your own.
๏น™a soft simper , examining a tree branch where the leaf started to bloom .๏นš โ €โ €โ €once people are taught to fear , it is hard to unlearn said assumptions . especially after centuries of stories and fables .
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Eden was thinking myself the same. Eden was thinking myself loved, despite the absence of the word for the sentiment. Eden was the first glimpse of sunlight. Never again.
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๐“ธ๐‘ง๐‘ฆ๐‘š๐‘Ž๐‘›๐‘‘๐‘–๐‘Ž๐‘ . retweeted
i see. you have a pure๏ผŒ fragile heart.
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Recall your bloodied ๐™˜๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™˜๐™š๐™ฅ๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ค๐™ฃ โธป born of obsession, mutilation. Creation upon the sins of one man, grieving, aggrieved. Grievous in the errors of affection turned bitter, then sour, then a tempest of acidic destruction. This is what you are. ๐˜ผ๐™˜๐™๐™š, immortalised.
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Because they think you are evil. ( Milton. Dante. The Book. These men's words seem to conflict with his sentiments, emerging slowly into a frown. ) I know you are not evil.
๏น™a sad smile , arms folded .๏นš โ €โ €โ €i'm afraid it is an anomaly for meโ €....โ €most others don't tend to like me .
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( Slow blink. Thoughtful. ) Is that not the case for most others? You say that as if it were an anomaly.
โ €โ €โ €you think so .แฃ i'm flattered , ๐‘™๐‘Ž๐‘š๐‘ . it's nice to know you think of me so positivelyโ €....โ €it's lovely .
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แ… แ… แ… แ…  แ… แ… ๐•ฏ๐‘ฌ๐‘จ๐‘ป๐‘ฏ ๐‘ฐ๐‘บ ๐‘ป๐‘ถ๐‘ถ ๐‘ฎ๐‘ถ๐‘ถ๐‘ซ ๐‘ญ๐‘ถ๐‘น ๐’€๐‘ถ๐‘ผ แ… แ… แ… แ… แ… แ…  โ”€โ”€โ โ”€โ”€โ โ”€โ”€โ”€โ โ”€โ”€ แ… แ… แ… แ… แ…  แ… แ… ๐€๐ฅ๐ฎ๐œ๐š๐ซ๐ แ… แ… แ… แ…  โ†’written by #TheniaChris แ… แ…  แ… แ…  แ… แ…  โ™ก +โ†ป
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. . . You would like to wrestle with wolves?
โ €โ €โ €well for one , my cherub , i'm the antichrist โ”€โ”€ not exactly all honeysuckle on the mind , you knowโ €....โ € though that does sound like a wonderful break .
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I have wrestled with wolves in the winter mud. I have to wonder how uncouth you could be in comparison
โ €โ €my crude humor is not worth understanding โ”€โ”€ i wouldn't want to bother you with such nonsense , lamb . quite ๐˜ถ๐˜ฏ๐˜ค๐˜ฐ๐˜ถ๐˜ต๐˜ฉ , if i might add .
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He almost wishes the other would react more strongly. He had learned, years on, that the men out of which his Creator had cobbled him together had perished in a warโ€”perhaps that could account for the incessant thrum for violence in his bones. Tense, even as he watches the fire
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burn away the last remnants of the picture, and only relaxes when it is all ash and dust. "You could be lying."
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