Utterance
...Each therapist has his own techniques.
The more experienced ones don't talk as
much. You may be talking for an hour and
all he does is listen.
...Each therapist has his own techniques.
The more experienced ones don't talk as
much. You may be talking for an hour and
all he does is listen.
Rain
The sun was not yet up. The street was
empty. No roaring automobiles, no
cursing mothers pulling kids around, no
noise of blacksmith’s saw. Not even the
neighborhood beggar. No sign of life yet.
The sun was not yet up. The street was
empty. No roaring automobiles, no
cursing mothers pulling kids around, no
noise of blacksmith’s saw. Not even the
neighborhood beggar. No sign of life yet.
Lucky Night
...Grand called over his shoulder “Thank you
Roger. Remember, nothing is random.
Everything happens for a reason.”
...Grand called over his shoulder “Thank you
Roger. Remember, nothing is random.
Everything happens for a reason.”
Deja Vu
...Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with a strange
feeling. I became a school kid again, a lazy one
with homework full of mistakes, a student
waiting for a severe punishment. The palms of
my hands stung from the soul-piercing pain
inflicted by the angry strikes of the ruler...
...Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with a strange
feeling. I became a school kid again, a lazy one
with homework full of mistakes, a student
waiting for a severe punishment. The palms of
my hands stung from the soul-piercing pain
inflicted by the angry strikes of the ruler...
Jacob
...Covering his ears with the palms of
his hands, he tires after writing for
hours. He looks at the pile of papers on
his desk, throws his pen aside, and
walks toward his bed. The roaring wind
rattles the window panes. He gets up by
supporting his hurting back with two
hands thinking autumn is not his
favorite season.
A human voice echoes in his little room
and he peers through the window into
the darkness and sees nothing but his
reflection, then whispers, “Is anyone
there?” And hears nothing but the tree
branches violently scratching the
windowpane and the loud whistle of the
wind. The voice fills the room once
again as he gets close to the bed...>>>>
...Covering his ears with the palms of
his hands, he tires after writing for
hours. He looks at the pile of papers on
his desk, throws his pen aside, and
walks toward his bed. The roaring wind
rattles the window panes. He gets up by
supporting his hurting back with two
hands thinking autumn is not his
favorite season.
A human voice echoes in his little room
and he peers through the window into
the darkness and sees nothing but his
reflection, then whispers, “Is anyone
there?” And hears nothing but the tree
branches violently scratching the
windowpane and the loud whistle of the
wind. The voice fills the room once
again as he gets close to the bed...>>>>