These are the notes Words of power and change Sound waves of emotion Of anger Of love Bringing people together Across borders Between languages Through time An eternal memory Of what could be And what was
The tree branch is slippery in my hands, but I manage to keep my grip. Adrenaline courses through my veins, bringing almost superhuman strength. And I need it. I can't fail now, not with this girl's life at stake. In the freezing water, she is quickly losing strength to hypothermia. Her hand reaches out from the turmoil, and I grab it with an iron grip that surprises even myself. I pull her towards me and strap the flotation belt around her waist.
...that the old man is standing in front of me. His face an unreadable mask, he turns around and beckons me to follow. Hesitantly, I am led towards a rickety old door in the back of the shop and down a flight of stairs. Once we are inside, the old man turns and shuts the door. At this point I have no clue why I'm here. But for some reason it feels right, like I'm getting closer to home with each step. We come to a stop behind a pile of boxes. Finally, the old man speaks, in a hushed voice that sounds as ancient as the items he sells. "Here we are safe," he says "but you must remain quiet until we are there." I want to ask where, to ask what is going on, but he continues speaking. "Hold the pendant up in the air and focus. Just focus. Stay calm and focus."
I sit at my desk Pencil in hand Blank sheet of paper Music flows into my ears Music leads me to faraway lands Music carries my hand across the page And music creates this drawing A melding of pencil and paper
Greetings and cordial salutations to all. I am here today to discumble the frivolous case of ther scunglerump and its superior box of moldy potatoes. As you know, this wallomping mass of fur and scarbdable has been teerorizing our humble village for eons of millenia. It is our duty (hehheh, doody) to removorate it once and for all of allness. So let us arrumble to the strambulent occassion and comandeer this klutzy kumquat thief. We'll leave at eleventy-three o-clock, so be thithrigle by then. Come hither yither, and let us unite! You are now dismissed.