Pseudo-Trifle Cord: 1892.

ㅤ The devotion that he blends and matches in a minimalist whiff is scratched by a chilliness furthermore an entire of inquisitiveness. He bestows a touch in the form of hue that disappears—with the cleanliness of the white that makes it look desirable and full of magnificence, and the equivocation of the black that he bestows as a form of serenity. ㅤ

– Move Or Sleep In The Dark.

ㅤ The piercing gaze that God bestowed on him gave a full volatile glare: full of implication as well as a big suspicion, lending it the impression of a dilemma as adequately as refinement in one term. Pleasant as a form of work that he furnishes, desirable as a form of effort he does, and the stomping of his feet and the bending of his fingers as a form of serenity and stability when he poses. There was no smile, only a scowl and an intense gaze that he gave in the colorless gloom, lending the impression of being frigid and full of expressions that indicate the infringement of a bond. In the murky his endured, throwing away all his colors and then merging into pieces of a colorless aura. Masquerading furthermore in a style that he does as a form of routine as it should, he inscribes all the aura he has in the form of deep emotional pieces. Bathed in the natural touch he lends in stillness, scattering all the handfuls of color he collects and then discards as a form that he doesn’t need it. Everything is vague and colorless, that’s what he wants as a form of fondness for the sorrow and vacant he has received so far—giving a frigid impression as well as an extinct sentiment. ㅤ

Raindrops Flooded With A Gloomy Atmosphere. – The hurricane washed over the ears and the noisy chatter that spoiled the serenity of the day, trickling hoarsely then gave a tinge of water. Gleam hit his face with a hue, scrubbing part of his face with the persisting rainwater that hit him, hurrying promptly towards the destination as a form on time. The streets are replenished with splotches of substantial rain sent by the almighty, gently drenching the bustle of the city as well. Shadow moves to pursue his direction: walking and running in colorless black and white pieces. His accomplishments bribed, making him arrive at a splendid colorless building that he cherishes and considers home for creativity. He put the jacket on the hanger and then began to put on a smile at the advent of the committee, confronting people who led him to the refinement of guises and modes. Commenced warming up to make the required expression—grins then gave him the piercing gaze he used to give an intense expression. Clutching his fingers on a neat ancient guitar, indicating his face with a thoughtful expression as well as relaxed in clothes that glance incredibly formal and bizarre. Wrapped in black, vibrant with the pose he gives adds a dour impression and also makes distinct curious. He is a form of numbness. ㅤ

ㅤ The devotion that he blends and matches in a minimalist whiff is scratched by a chilliness furthermore an entire of inquisitiveness. He bestows a touch in the form of hue that disappears—with the cleanliness of the white that makes it look desirable and full of magnificence, and the equivocation of the black that he bestows as a form of serenity. ㅤ

ㅤ The devotion that he blends and matches in a minimalist whiff is scratched by a chilliness furthermore an entire of inquisitiveness. He bestows a touch in the form of hue that disappears—with the cleanliness of the white that makes it look desirable and full of magnificence, and the equivocation of the black that he bestows as a form of serenity. ㅤ

ㅤ The devotion that he blends and matches in a minimalist whiff is scratched by a chilliness furthermore an entire of inquisitiveness. He bestows a touch in the form of hue that disappears—with the cleanliness of the white that makes it look desirable and full of magnificence, and the equivocation of the black that he bestows as a form of serenity. ㅤ

ㅤ The piercing gaze that God bestowed on him gave a full volatile glare: full of implication as well as a big suspicion, lending it the impression of a dilemma as adequately as refinement in one term. Pleasant as a form of work that he furnishes, desirable as a form of effort he does, and the stomping of his feet and the bending of his fingers as a form of serenity and stability when he poses. There was no smile, only a scowl and an intense gaze that he gave in the colorless gloom, lending the impression of being frigid and full of expressions that indicate the infringement of a bond. In the murky his endured, throwing away all his colors and then merging into pieces of a colorless aura. Masquerading furthermore in a style that he does as a form of routine as it should, he inscribes all the aura he has in the form of deep emotional pieces. Bathed in the natural touch he lends in stillness, scattering all the handfuls of color he collects and then discards as a form that he doesn’t need it. Everything is vague and colorless, that’s what he wants as a form of fondness for the sorrow and vacant he has received so far—giving a frigid impression as well as an extinct sentiment. ㅤ

– Move Or Sleep In The Dark.