the children dispersed, forming clusters, each assembly receiving the other with closed arms and minds, rejecting and mocking what they are unaware of.

I've gone by these names in the past, if for some reason you find me familiar:
aloneweseekshadowstohidein
somethinglessthanintended
youcametototwocherrycokes
pushbarmantoopenoldwounds
falsettokeepstime

Manufactured Images Of Jesus Christ

Navio Forge

Navio Forge - As We Quietly Burn A Hole Into...

1 week ago  8 plays

Track 02

Inso Grey

Inso Grey - Demo

2 weeks ago  0 plays

Spent all afternoon installing a new lip and splitters.  Tested up to 160km/h so far tonight and hasn’t come loose at all so I suppose the addition of double-sided tape to the bolts was well worth it (plus it helped with mounting it).  Will be taking some better photos in the daytime.

Why would a nice guy like you want to kill a genius?

Picked up some LPs!

as long as my eyelids are weighed down by desire

and one dying wish

I will never know when you appear

Mass

Ativin

Ativin - Pills Versus Planes

Church of Astronauts

Ativin

Ativin - German Water

1 month ago  0 plays

Songs I Love

Angie Heaton

Angie Heaton - Ooh Do I Love You

Capsella Love

Supporting Actress

Supporting Actress - Ooh Do I Love You

aeryi said: Who is yurisuika?

That’s just my gaming alias.

If only I could find a girl who would put up with me listening to Belle & Sebastian and emotive hardcore genres all day, I think I’d be happy.

Expectations

Belle & Sebastian

Belle & Sebastian - Tigermilk

1 month ago  23 plays

Times grew worse and worse with Rip Van Winkle as years of matrimony rolled on; a tart tempter never mellows with age, and a sharp tongue is the only edge tool that grows keener by constant use.  For a long while he used to console himself, when driven from home, by frequenting a kind of perpetual club of the sages, philosophers, and other idle personages of the village, that held its sessions on a bench before a small inn, designated by a rubicund portrait of his majesty George the Third.  Here they used to sit in the shade, of a long lazy summer’s day, talk listlessly over village gossip, or tell endless sleepy stories about nothing.  But it would have been worth any statesman’s money to have heard the profound discussions that sometimes took place, when by chance an old newspaper fell into their hands, from some passing traveller.  How solemnly they would listen to the contents, as drawled out by Derrick Van Bummel, the schoolmaster, a dapper learned little man, who was not to be daunted by the most gigantic word in the dictionary.