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journal amigos lineup the girl ★ je t'aime
☆ くるま~zuma! ☆
~ The key is hung.

Sorry, but this journal is locked!
If you would like to be added, feel free to reply to this entry and I'll try to get back to you.

mood: \(^▽^*)いらっしゃ~いっ(*^▽^)/
music: le ciel -- malice mizer

rev ur engines
 I don't journal here anymore.  If you want to continue reading my shit, go to my blog

mood: tired tired

rev ur engines
 ~ Thunderclap from a clear sky.

A girl sitting at a window.  Performing Evelyn in a cathedral in England for school children.  Horses the color of copper.  A man with a speech impediment named Clarence.

What little I remember of my dreams last night was strangely mundane.  I remember a man so talented with ice skating that he could carve people's names into the ice with the tip of his skate.  I was upset because he chose Noelle's name instead of mine.

I remember colors.  Bright, beautiful colors.

Sliding through the halls at a terrifying speed whilst linking arms with Alex and David as though we too were on ice.  When I mentioned the heightening speed to David, he brought us to an abrupt stop.  I think I had been afraid that a cop was going to pull us over and give us a ticket for speeding.

Maybe that last part wasn't so mundane.

When I told Clarence--the man with the speech impediment I had mentioned earlier--that my name is Katie, he said, "Mary." I wondered how he could know my first name and insisted that it was Katie.  After seeing the look on his face, I caved in and admitted that people call me Katie although my real name is Mary. "See?" He said in a way that looked as though he was about to bite his tongue off. "I knew you looked like a Mary."

For some reason I was the only one who could understand his impediment.

Everything was so harmless... Everything was so safe.

There was one moment in a western scene (That was the scene with the horses.  They were all being forced to run in a continuous circle.  One of the russet colored ones had stopped near me so I could pet her.  Silk under my fingertips.  She was forced to move on.  Another horse stopped as though aching for me to touch that beautiful, long nose...) when a man was shooting his pistol.  A bit more haphazardly than I would have liked.  He saw that I was ducking, afraid to be hit by his bullets, and snapped a shot right past my face.  He smiled and gestured toward the wooden wall--looked like a barn door--he had hit.  It was confetti.  The shape of a flower.

I felt warm.  No nightmares.  No figures lurking in the shadows with the intent to hurt me.

So harmless.  So safe.

mood: calm calm

rev ur engines