the way a memory holds tight in the smallest corner. He smiles and says, I always hope someone will notice.
the character knows it too the character can read people deeper wish or what i call their subconscious wish sometimes it depends.
the way a memory holds tight in the smallest corner. He smiles and says, I always hope someone will notice.
the character knows it too the character can read people deeper wish or what i call their subconscious wish sometimes it depends.
except I decide I can’t live this way, and walk over to him and place my hand on his shoulder, lean in close and whisper, I love your argyle socks, and he grabs my hand,
very powerful i was about to say the character just can't live that too because keeping it inside does not help
the bakery watching the old man still sitting at his table, moving his napkin as he drinks his small cup of coffee, and I never say, I think you’re beautiful, except in my head,
this confirm what i was thinking the character is analyzing and challenging society beliefs but she do it inside but not outside.
a woman dancing outside the bakery holding a cigarette and broken umbrella.
he or she like people that are not usually presented as attractive or maybe she or he fall in love pretty fast or might just be a saying. just meaning she or he likes them but not in a romantic way.
But in this world we’ve been taught too keep our emotions tight, a rubberband ball we worry
the world? is that a specific place, a specific society or the world in general?
all those fireworks, every seventeen minutes, exploding in my head—you the baker, you the novelist, you the reader, you the homeless man on the corner
the character has many deep thoughts going on, i can feel that. the people who are seen as disadvantage in life or people not usually seen as desirable yes the character want them to know he/she care
to the stranger in the plaid wool hat and tell him how much I love his eyes,
a poor dude? an old soul? sometimes some eyes are seen as more beautiful by the maybe the media or others but others eyes are just as beautiful and the character feel they must say it.
the frost—how it covers the clovers —and by clovers I mean lovers.
by clover she means lover i know what the narrator or author did there. i must admit they are very beautiful to look at or even imagine.
he rain, I’ve fallen in love with it many times,
me too honestly i love the rain not all the time but the rain bring peace to my heart sometimes the sound of raining is hypnotizing and makes me sleep.
it was a gray- haired man in argyle socks
an old probably but i am not sure, is she bipolar? or is it even a female? my assumptions is yes she is.