A lime green eye, hooded with heavy lids and dark lashes. the face, encased in shadow. Wild locks of chestnut hair brush against his sunken cheeks. Lips paused and parted in thoughts of ignorant bliss. His expression is lazy, but there is depth in his brow. Surrounded by titles to read from afar.
Are you simply not hungry? I’ve been waiting weeks for you to open me up and to see your face. That expression of excitement and concentration as you ponder your options. It’s dark in here without you. It’s like every time you open me you bring the light. That cheese you bought is starting to smell. And, I wish I could tell you that you need eggs. I miss watching you cook. You are a terrible cook. But, I’ve always loved a comedy special over a cooking show. Sometimes, I get s
“If you can guess what I have in my pocket, you can have it,” taunted Nootiakok as he prodded Nanurjuk’s upper back with a bony pointer finger. Nanurjuk whipped around, toying with the idea of breaking off the antagonizing appendage, but he decided not to expose his wrist to the frigid air.
Their bodies, clad with Caribou hide and fox fur, were dark against the vast white ice sheets and snowy dunes, as if a white washer had missed two spots on an old teak fence.
It’s a rare time to be alive these days. Everywhere I go there’s no sorrows needed because it's already on the canvas. A light moon with dark trees blowing into the creator’s mind. It’s hard to define between the sun and the moon. Blue skies and black views filling a paradise to anyone who’s aching with heart. Caresses the minds who think to the deepest abyss making it blue, but black to the ones who feel and don’t think. A white canvas that has been haunted with loneliness a