"El cansancio de un cuarto de hora no se repara con otro cuarto de reposo; una noche no basta para rehacerse del desgaste de un día..."
"The fatigue of a quarter of an hour, is not restored with another quarter of rest, one night is not enough, to recover a day's weariness..."
So lately I haven't been able to finish any of the material I have written, I seem to be blocked, or ran out of inspiration, don't quite understand how this works, and lord know I have lots of material but I just cant seem to bring my self to write an ending to anything, even now I'm not sure how ill end this post, I'm writing until inspiration stars flowing over me; alcohol sometimes might be the answer but to what question, shall I resort to external means of inspiration, empty hollow meaningless factors that will heighten my senses, so I can truly see, that inspiration lies with in our hight, trapped behind a door in the back of our minds, which we need a magical key to tap in to; I don't want to believe this, how ever wine now runs through my veins, and warms my throat and heart, I feel the red veil lifting and turn this vain piece of writing in to verses that intertwine with one another, turning reality in to a pink and purple blur, oh how I wish this feeli...
I wish I could find that someone that would move mountains for me, someone that would be right there for me when ever I am in need, someone that would jump through hoops for me, someone to take star out of the sky as a gift for me someone that when ever I call will stop what ever his doing just to be there, someone to make me laugh in moments of despair and will never hesitate, I wish that hug that would make everything go away, and this is not a mother's touch or a friend's kind words of understanding, Its something else, something far beyond, don't know its name, for it has so many, I recognize it, I have seen it, I have had it twice before and thrice more have I lost it, now I miss it, wonder if I would ever get to have it again..... Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device
It was a another cool and windy night out in the open seas of Lorthmor, below deck she prepares to rests the days work along with her new mates, who where now feasting on dry meats and aged rum; they had started story telling and she was intrigued by those who where the most experienced, and perhaps the reason why she didn't dare tell any stories of her own; minutes later as she prepared to call it a night, a young girl next to her, a new comer just like her, asked her: - How about you, what's your story? - My simple story does not compare to those of these brave men - she said - Even so, wouldn't one like to know more about those she travel with - the girl replied - Fair enough... -the drunken men cheered and belched in the background as Sariel started her story: - I used to live with my family in the shards of Helveren, up in the city of Nambar, father was a wizard with a fancy for trinkets, and mo...
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