Headphones in music blaring, notes almost visible on the white ceiling tiles at which he's staring, deep breath in and he push up against the weight, his arms struggling to support it,
He had but a five pound note crisp, and folded in his pocket as he walked through the bright red door into the bookies. He started on the slot machines, the collection of various fruits
She wonders through the smokey mist that hangs in the air, seemingly searching perhaps for a friend or perhaps for love, it's neither infact, the way she's dressed
(Sloth: is the neglect to take care of something that one should do) 57th street down town chicargo, he's walking at a casual pace, early, as usual, he's ten minutes
With arms wide open like jesus on the cross shoulders sqaure to finger tips, we let things in with no defence, and eventually we repent this decision. With arms closed shut