10-16-2018, 05:14 AM
[align=center][div style="width:450px; font-size:8.6pt;line-height:1.2; color:#000;font-family:calibri;margin-top:3px;margin-bottom:3px;margin-left:0px;text-align:justify;"]Mundane – activity worn until distinct is the lack of intrigue or real want to go about such things, muscle learning the behaviour necessary for such things to become second nature in a way. Ingrained within bone, caught in tangled thought that swirls about complex lines, driven towards something less within those moments. Basic is the stimulation behind it, enough to keep one going about each task, moving between each, but the monotony grows until it seems a stone.
Is this how you feel Sisyphus, caught in routine with only the burn of muscles driven to the brink to speak of life, caught in perpetual loop.
There is little to find of surprise when one seeks a way to break through it, ending what seems only to encircle, running back into itself. Childish may such a remedy prove to be, simplistic acts through which one may derive some sense of pleasure, breaking apart events that have grown tiresome, but such is little more than a footnote. Yet for the child toned in cinnamon they bore no such want, mind left drifting between simplistic structure of each thought contained in the small skull. All about them had proven too new for such a need to rear its head, caught, for the moment at least, in a desire for exploration, wonder in paws sparked with a want for adventure.
Warmth curled up short legs, slight the burn within muscles that tightened the further they wandered along the stretch of beach left a shimmering golden hue, brief contact of one apparent. Step is uneasy and rolling, drawing them slowly closer to where the three had set themself though few more seconds passed before the youth picked them out, easy sound of curiosity escaping parted lips. The structure was loose and held little in way of integrity, easy to destroy if such was the intent, but something within the child deemed CCLIV wanted not to destroy but make. Moving closer there was the slight flick of eyes directed towards the others present, unfamiliar in a way Victor was though slight was the memory, fuzzy from a mind caught in the wake of sleep.
Is this how you feel Sisyphus, caught in routine with only the burn of muscles driven to the brink to speak of life, caught in perpetual loop.
There is little to find of surprise when one seeks a way to break through it, ending what seems only to encircle, running back into itself. Childish may such a remedy prove to be, simplistic acts through which one may derive some sense of pleasure, breaking apart events that have grown tiresome, but such is little more than a footnote. Yet for the child toned in cinnamon they bore no such want, mind left drifting between simplistic structure of each thought contained in the small skull. All about them had proven too new for such a need to rear its head, caught, for the moment at least, in a desire for exploration, wonder in paws sparked with a want for adventure.
Warmth curled up short legs, slight the burn within muscles that tightened the further they wandered along the stretch of beach left a shimmering golden hue, brief contact of one apparent. Step is uneasy and rolling, drawing them slowly closer to where the three had set themself though few more seconds passed before the youth picked them out, easy sound of curiosity escaping parted lips. The structure was loose and held little in way of integrity, easy to destroy if such was the intent, but something within the child deemed CCLIV wanted not to destroy but make. Moving closer there was the slight flick of eyes directed towards the others present, unfamiliar in a way Victor was though slight was the memory, fuzzy from a mind caught in the wake of sleep.