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00 Away with the FairiesAway with the fairies Prologue
There was a delighted squeal as pork fat hit the flames, the fiery dancers writhing to the popping beat. Someone had started up a drum and the rest of the camp devoured their first hot meal of the day to the ever changing timber. Horses stomped, goats bleated and amongst the headache inducing din, Mikhail finally realised he was home. The constant press of noise behind his temples was warm, and the insulting colour combinations of ramshackle caravans and clothing familiar. There was a new body here and there, and the occasional grizzled face was missing from the throng, but the laughter and music was the same. Tomorrow was Weeks End so there would be no turning in early tonight, he mused glumly. Theyd camp, eat, dance and sing, then eat more while one of the story-tellers sent the children off to bed with a tale. After that was a mystery; hed been too young to stay up la
Shishosetsu IIShishosetsu II
Yes, theres a number two. Believe it or not, I found more things about myself to talk about. I dont know whether its modesty or just honesty that drives me to say Im not a very interesting person but, given the chance to, I always see something to give an opinion on. I guess I should keep a blog or a diary. Well, perhaps a diary. Theres no point in a blog if people dont read it thats what its there for, right? and I learnt through several years of blogging that no-one was really interested in what I had to say. Fair enough, I probably wasnt saying anything very interesting anyway. Got up, went to school/university, ate some ravioli, came home, went online, wrote blog. End of post. End of life, really, I dont do much else on a regular basis, give or take the few other activities Ill substitute the internet with. Its not fasci
Stranger LoveI am not the sunlit wing-print
splayed out on the bedroom wall.
I am not the dark mass forming
in a corner of an airless hall.
I am not the viscous vengeance
where you sink your spinning wheels.
I am not the leaky bucket
hung up on your wishing well.
You are not my soul mate missing
wandering a winter's night.
You are not the sound of angels
singing by a candle's light.
You are not the rasp of fingers
fumbling with a hasp of steel.
You are not the tattered towel
soaking up the things I feel.
I am the oblivious child,
dancing where the wildflowers are.
You are my unwitting captive
lighting up a jelly jar.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More