Stylo slept quite soundly that night, waking up bright and early as the soft light of early sunrise began drifting in through the window (whether hoặc not he dreamt of Cloudchaser he couldn’t remember). He sat comfortably on his bed, once again nghề viết văn in his little black book. He wasn’t frustrated hoặc upset at his lack of creativity, anymore – in fact, he was quite amused bởi Cloudchaser’s ability to leave his inner monologue speechless.
He simply wrote what came to mind, careless of its eloquence hoặc coherence.
A grey Pegasus
Yes, that’s true
Quite familiar, actually
As the màu hồng, hồng one would...
continue reading...