The evening is really soft; like you can almost hear the calm breeze whispering something to you.
The poetry of words, floating around in your brain, isn't something to be disregarded.
Are you going to climb that tree?
I'll just grab wings and fly.
Sometimes I'll ask myself if I'd ever trade this for a dollar.
Vegan restaurants are evil.
The sun and ocean shine the same.
YOU ARE READING
Quiet Choir
RandomThis is an experiment of sorts. Oftentimes I have an arrangement of voices in the background thoughts of my mind. They're just, talking; about a variety of unrelated things usually. I believe they originate from the part of my mind that generate...
