Amber: Getting back from breakfast after winter wonderland sleep over.
Ben: The snow bit and had turned my hands and face red; it piled high and was in dirtied white clumps, blackened at the edges by what had lay, earlier, between the cracks of the street's stone and fractured concrete. I trudged along while digging deeper into my jacket's pockets, searching for whatever warmth might be found. What was snow at first, and that had soaked through both shoes, was then nothing but what had left numb toes to burn.
Morgan: Cautious drive back to Richmond, after a snow storm across Virginia.
Rachel: Kasey didn't feel like battling the 13 inches of snow to use the bathroom.
Rachel: Kasey didn't feel like battling the 13 inches of snow to use the bathroom.
1 comment:
I think the most piquant and alluring element of this here blog, this blog of whom which I momentarily elicit, are the several arty comments that include the overdepiction of normal phenomena like feeling wet pockets, or flush cheeks. In these descriptions the reiteration, yes this, careful, meticulous and verbose overcharacterization of what is being said, several times over, pounding in the staple point, is what really reaches the loins of the reader. It is these, these Frost-esque compilations of both fact and image, that truly bring tears to readers eyes, and for the select few the heads of their respective urethras. It is these, these over-imagistic involutions of pointless material that too, make this capacious blog, longer than it needs to be. Cheers everyone. Ben, shorten the prose.
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