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RainI am teaching him the joys of the rain you see It don't arrive for you nor me Rain tantalises and promises falsely A houseguest that evaporates before it's seen Out pokes his tongue to lick gingerly All he tastes is the sand, gritty He turns and delivers his philosophy "Water belongs in the sea, it can't fly, you see"Rain
Let's visit Cloud Land, Yes Siree "Tell them the rain's late! They'll fix it see?" No mere metaphorical blows of
Gravity,
Punctuality, Reality or Factuality, Can pierce his sheild of innocence he'll carry
by ~Camemmillie
Some form of storyAndreas cupped the light in his baby sized hands. He did not yet know it, but by doing so, he was blocking the rays from the inside of his curled up fists. He was excited, he wanted to catch the beams, to call the his own, but this wasn't a materialistic hunt for the light, no... Andreas wanted to mother the light, he wanted to watch the glowing mass live and thrive in his care, when he opened his little palms, there the white power was, staying put and behaving. The little boy had no idea that he was being tricked by the light, he was so sure that this time he had it! There was no escaping once he bundled it into his pocket and ran home to sSome form of story
by ~Camemmillie
Personality's FormI wish I was that chicken. I really do sometimes. I remember when Saskia would hold me closely; she’d tell me about beauty and retell never ending stories, sharing her morals as if they would never run dry (as far as I still know, they haven’t). She never held me as close as that chicken in the photograph. She was the type of girl who could open her mouth, and no matter what came out, there was an invisible and intoxicating love in her words, even when she was hateful, it was because you’d done something upsetting, and all she was doing was caring about you and trusting you, because she loved you. Saskia, seriouslyPersonality's Form
by ~Camemmillie
DoorsMost doors have knobs, by most, I now mean a few, they all used to have knobs, but now a door can revolve, or have a handle, open automatically or slide open with force…those doors always get stuck, you cannot trust them. Me, myself, I love a good knob. A doorknob, with a keyhole right underneath it, so traditional and beautiful. The wrist gesture used to turn a doorknob is so delicate and ever so slight, like a polite greeting. You never know what lies behind a door, at least one that you have never opened before, it could be anything… unless it is a transparent door, or one of those supermarket doors again. Who has traDoors
by ~Camemmillie
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- Current Residence: The Bedroom of Joyness!
- deviantWEAR sizing preference: Small/Medium Ladies Please
- Interests: Theatre, Standup Comedy, Music, Photography, Writing, Film, Circus
- Favourite movie: Fight Club, Amelie, the Labyrinth
- Favourite band or musician: The Cat Empire, Tim Minchin, Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds
- Favourite genre of music: Jazz, Easy Listening, Comedy
- Favourite artist: LexxieLizzie, Andy Warhol, S.E.B, Noel Fielding
- Favourite poet or writer: Neil Gaiman, Edgar Allen Poe, Chuck Palaniuk
- Favourite photographer: Well, Linzy is pretty wonderful ^_^
- Favourite style of art: Fantastical, something realistic in a detached sense? Something amazing please!
- Operating System: PC Dell Laptop
- MP3 player of choice: Ipod, sadly, althought theyre sell outs, Apple have it spot on
- Wallpaper of choice: Ross Noble please!! ^_^
- Skin of choice: ...I quite like my own skin, its comfy and fits rather nicely to be honest
- Favourite game: Sims, guilty pleasure
- Favourite gaming platform: Sega Dreamcast!!!
- Favourite cartoon character: Alice in Wonderland
- Personal Quote: "You're not special...well, I think you're special, but you fall within the Bell Curv
- Tools of the Trade: Pen, Laptop, Artbook, Thought shower!!
- Website: http://www.myspace.com/franzwolfy
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