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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Intro" data-source="post: 136118" data-attributes="member: 7900">high gloss floors, marble-like, reflecting bright flourescent light in bright white puddles. black plastic flip-flop drops up and down while the other is vacated for a spot on a seatback of the row ahead. the young lady in the gray sweater seems misled and her sentiments are echoed.and I've fallen into another observational mode.my eyes follow the wales of my corduroy pants, dancing through rows of waving grain. I think back on a day dominated by rain. the pretentious man with his dark suit and black umbrella, constantly pointing his finger to place the blame. we found our own reality in his actions - we found satisfaction in "what ifs". all more drastic and surely less effective than raising a mirror.the hemp braids of my bracelet are slowly coming undone. I hate to see it go, but the creation itself was fun. three dark brown beads held loosely with square knots. there used to be a fourth and it served a purpose indeed, but for some reason I like it much better with three.a mosaic of blah's hints to her level of interest, but she weathers the bullshit in preparation of an upcoming test. pardon me, exam - an unconscious correction from the bulky, bearded man.I sat on the bricks and watched the bustling cul-de-sac. expensive cars and backpacks - mobile conversations and lack of patience. the cotton threads of the wick in tomorrow's philosophic wax? more likely CEO's with deepest thoughts towards income tax.</blockquote>

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