ohh how i wish there existed nation imagi. in this story there does:
flimsy wind flyeth gently over her. she dwelled in total gentleness of her sweetheart. he was everywhere. In her ears. music never sounded as yummy. how he made her resound with love, passion and good taste... was described in a full taste of a passion fruit. round, colourful and hip. her hip. everything in her did resonate. for this reason she was writing a sonata.
sonata, sexy and sassy, that was full of waves, mysterious moons and empty stone filled beaches; where they had taken a trip or two or three... on land, on air, at sea. this was a sonata with three hipster movements. like a waltz, if you can imagine.
how this story ends, or more like begins, depends on your imagination.
kiss kiss.
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