Things fall apart into pieces.
@Tangled in February 2025
Things fall apart as they're drawn out of water.
Things fall apart as they're scattered.
Things fall apart with the utterance.
By the words spoken, things are learnt, and even the thought are perceived.
Now, that I'm Make it quick! Make it quark! I'm not eye, but I'm eyeing.
Raven, (riv'n or riven), raving, reaving, reaving or leaving?
Billion not virion. Let's do it (fernowl, for now, fanal).
VENOM? Venom not fanum. That's neither (binome, benim, binom). Homophonically, that's not fanam. That's definitely not enum. That's yet not called inam.
Four friends and they're not always together as named : adjuration, adoration, adulation, adunation.
Things fall apart as they're scattered The phrase "Things fall apart as they're scattered" can be interpreted both literally and metaphorically, offering layers of meaning depending on the context. Here's a thorough explanation: Literal Interpretation Physical Objects: When physical items are scattered, they often become disorganized or chaotic. For instance: Books: If books are scattered across a room, they lose their organized structure, making it hard to find what you…
Things fall apart as they're drawn out of water The phrase "Things fall apart as they're drawn out of water" can be interpreted in several metaphorical and literal ways, depending on the context in which it's used. Here's a thorough exploration: Literal Interpretation: Physical Objects: When physical objects are submerged in water, they might appear cohesive or whole due to the buoyancy or the visual distortion caused by water. When these objects are removed from water, they…
You can choose to say it.
Anything you desire to say or be, just go for it.
There's no (lite, light) at the time.
When they'll give the light— Will you use it for the exact purpose?
What one pays for another asks for reason.
It doesn't have a teeth, how'd it chew?
It's either
Missed it? It's either you or him. Just do it rightly.
Bees of the Veil In a sun-drenched valley cradled by wildflower hills, there lived a woman named Elara, a beekeeper whose hands were as gentle as the hum of her hives. Her hair was streaked with gray, her eyes bright with the wisdom of seasons, and her voice carried the melody of someone who had sung to bees since she was a girl. The children of the village adored her, clustering around her apiary like eager drones to their queen, their laughter mingling with the steady buzz…
Death’s Celestial Choir Death stood at the edge of existence, his cloak a cascade of midnight woven with threads of starlight. He was no grim reaper of terror, but a quiet curator, his hands steady and his eyes deep as the void. In a vast chamber beyond time, where the walls shimmered like the aurora and the floor rippled like a still sea, he kept his most cherished collection: a table of moons and planets, each a gleaming orb suspended in perfect orbit. They were not mere…
The Whispered Debt In a dusty town where the sun gnawed at the earth, there lived a man named Kofi, whose shoulders sagged under the weight of loans he could not repay. His hands were calloused from labor, his pockets empty save for the lint of broken promises. Each day, he drank garri—coarse cassava flakes stirred into water or swallowed dry—a cheap balm for the gnawing in his gut. It was his ritual: a handful of garri to quiet the nausea that rose like a tide when hunger…
Red Hands, Roadside Coins Here’s a story woven from the lives of different people—a woman, a man, and children—tied to the trade of palm kernels on Sundays, their struggles, their rhythms, and the dance of survival in a bustling market. In a town where the sun rose with a fierceness that painted the earth red, Sundays were alive with the clatter of palm kernels and the hum of voices. The market sprawled along the roadside, a chaotic quilt of sacks, stalls, and sweat, where…
Desks at Dawn Let’s explore the experience of being in high school (or secondary school) at the age of twenty or twenty-six, and the desire to return to that stage at twenty-six. I’ll break this down into how it might feel in the moment and what longing to go back could mean, painting a picture grounded in emotion and circumstance. Being in High School at Twenty or Twenty-Six Imagine you’re twenty, or even twenty-six, sitting in a classroom where the desks feel too small,…
Remember what you (did, deed).
It doesn't always feel right at all time. Just take it, you'll like it. I still can't give you any promise.
The Light of the Offering Sack Here’s a story inspired by your request, weaving together the elements of a Roman Catholic Church, a Legion program on Saturday evenings, and the "bag pet sack of offering" interpreted as a collection bag or sack used during the offertory. Since "Legion" could refer to the Legion of Mary (a Catholic lay organization) or a similar youth-oriented program, I’ll assume it’s a children’s faith-based gathering held after Mass, as you described. The…
It's loved. But there's he who doesn't.
Ngenevu Obed Camp Cleanup: Gutter Clearing on Feb 22, 2025, Boosts Drainage Below is a formal account of the community cleanup that occurred yesterday, Saturday, February 22, 2025, in the Ngenevu Obed Camp community of Ogbete, Enugu, Nigeria, based on your specification that it involved gutter waste excavation and roadside accumulation as part of a recurring last-Saturday tradition. Since no documented record of this exact event from yesterday is available in real-time…