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010i tied rocks to my anklesto keep me from blowing awaybecause i was too small, too small -a dandelion-child, only a seed of time.but days grew and i swallowed the sunand now i am too tall, too tall -and the stone bracelets on my anklesmake me too heavy to fly.
009i feel like a shade of greygod's pen blotted outon the surface of the earth.maybe i was meant to besomething beautiful buthis hand shook anddrew me out all wrongand twisted. or maybei'm just here to find mypurpose and give itto the world as abirthday present.it is my job to keep goinguntil normalityswallows me up.
008and you took toaccepting thatsad was your happybecause it wasall you had. buthe wouldn't listenwhen you told him,he just said:find the beauty inlittle things anddon't wait for the worldto clip your fadedwings, just glideon currents of hot airinstead.
character developmentOld Colonel Silver owns a junk shop, sells renovated antique weapons out of his back yard. Despite his caustic manner, which is often taken for rudeness, he has a wicked sense of humour and a heart which is very much in the right place. He lost his eye in an auction, when the sale of an ancient copy of Shakespeare became rather heated. (He did succeed in getting the book however, though the legality of the purchase was questionable it was about this time that he stopped using his first name and slid into the slums. If you want to quote Shakespeare at him, be prepared for a rather epic battle.)Penelope Braveheart Daredevil balloon pilot who is unfortunately rather unskilled. Her mistakes are more than made up for by her enthusiasm, however, and she is loved by just about everyone in the slums. She has a hidden talent for sharpshooting.Patrick Pilgrim Curator of the museum of modern artefacts a museum which showcases artefacts tha
007it's like i'mseeing the world througheyes of crushed glass,my hands wide andcradling my ownuniverseand slick-spittedletters are curvedaround my ears becausethey are too smallto hear the right wordsand they only listento the sound ofthe wallsand my skin isdecorated withswirling salt likethe sea has justwashed me upwith seaweed for hairand i am empty.and so i will gosit in thecorner of your eyesand be brokenbecause my shadowis so much more thanmyself.
006the rain d[r]ies on mystiff lips and i am stillagainst the windowpanewatching the dance within.you hold her, spinning,head thrown back, a laughterloose and loving, unshakenand free. you were not like thatwith me.the pain of my heartbeating out of my chestand burning a hole in my shirtis enough to send medown.
endymion dreamingday creeps, bowed,below the horizonand my hour is now.silver light spills outcasting leaves aglowand in my phosphorescent caveeternity slumbers, moonlit.she is mine, and i am hers,and neither mortal nor godcan separate us.we are entwined in sleep:in the gentle watches of night,in those haunted bruises onthe face of the moon.she grows tired, i think,of watching but not touching,of hearing but not tasting.i cry out to her in my dreams,but hypnos has bound me,(slumber-pinioned,sleep-chafed)and all i can be isthe moon's own myth.
pearlI was a water birth,wrenched from the oyster of my mother's womb.They washed me 'til my white skinsang and shimmered pearly.I grew around the fragment I was then,a speck on the tongue of the world.