Tags » Evocative
BOTW has incredible power in its most mundane moments.
A bead of sweat drips down your forehead and falls onto the parched rock below, staining it a deep brown and foreshadowing what you can tell is coming, judging from the darkening sky and pregnant clouds overhead. 1,109 more words
Her antiquity in preceding and surviving succeeding tellurian generations: her nocturnal predominance: her satellitic dependence: her luminary reflection: her constancy under all her phases, rising and setting by her appointed times, waxing and waning: the forced invariability of her aspect: her indeterminate response to inaffirmative interrogation: her potency over effluent and refluent waters: her power to enamour, to mortify, to invest with beauty, to render insane, to incite to and aid delinquency: the tranquil inscrutability of her visage: the terribility of her isolated dominant resplendent propinquity: her omens of tempest and of calm: the stimulation of her light, her motion and her presence: the admonition of her craters, her arid seas, her silence: her splendour, when visible: her attraction, when invisible.
A zoo, two strangers approach, a young brunette woman, hair bouncing off her shoulder blades, a stray purple bra strap from beneath a white top, one slightly older gentleman with thinning blonde hair, smiling eyes, short sleeve shirt and bronze arms. 696 more words