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I've got a theory, it could be bunnies... - all pause - (Tara) I've got a theor- (Anya) Bunnies aren't just cute like everybody supposes, They've got them hoppy legs and twitchy little noses. And what's with all the carrots-? What do they need such good eyesight for anywa - y? Bunnies, bunnies it must be bunnies! - pause - ...or maybe midgets... (Willow) I've got a theory we should work this fa - s t. ( Giles) because it clearly could get serious before it's passed. (Buffy) I've got a theory - it doesn't matte - r. What can't we face if we're together? What's in this place that we can't weather? Apocalypse? We've all been there. The same old trips. Why should we care? (All) What can't we do if we get in it? We'll work it through if there's a minute. We have to try. We'll pay the price. It's do or die. (Buffy) Hey, I've died twice! What can't we face if we're together? (Giles) What can't we face? What's in this place that we can't weather? (Giles) If we're together. There's nothing we can't fa - ce. (Pause) (Anya) Except for bunnies... ↗
THE UNICORN: The saintly hermit, midway through his prayers stopped suddenly, and raised his eyes to witness the unbelievable: for there before him stood the legendary creature, startling white, that had approached, soundlessly, pleading with his eyes. The legs, so delicately shaped, balanced a body wrought of finest ivory. And as he moved, his coat shone like reflected moonlight. High on his forehead rose the magic horn, the sign of his uniqueness: a tower held upright by his alert, yet gentle, timid gait. The mouth of softest tints of rose and grey, when opened slightly, revealed his gleaming teeth, whiter than snow. The nostrils quivered faintly: he sought to quench his thirst, to rest and find repose. His eyes looked far beyond the saint's enclosure, reflecting vistas and events long vanished, and closed the circle of this ancient mystic legend. ↗
People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles. This is the first thing I hear when I come back to the city. Blair picks me up from LAX and mutters this under her breath as she drives up the onramp. She says, "People are afraid to merge on freeways in Los Angeles." Though that sentence shouldn't bother me, it stays in my mind for an uncomfortably long time. Nothing else seems to matter. Not the fact that I'm eighteen and it's December and the ride on the plane had been rough and the couple from Santa Barbara, who were sitting across from me in first class, had gotten pretty drunk. Not the mud that had splattered on the legs of my jeans, which felt kind of cold and loose, earlier that day at an airport in New Hampshire. Not the stain on the arm of the wrinkled, damp shirt I wear, a shirt which looked fresh and clean this morning. Not the tear on the neck of my gray argyle vest, which seems vaguely more eastern than before, especially next to Blair's clean tight jeans and her pale-blue shirt. All of this seems irrelevant next to that one sentence. It seems easier to hear that people are afraid to merge than "I'm pretty sure Muriel is anorexic" or the singer on the radio crying out about magnetic waves. Nothing else seems to matter to me but those ten words. Not the warm winds, which seem to propel the car down the empty asphalt freeway, or the faded smell of marijuana which still faintly permeates Blaire's car. All it comes down to is the fact that I'm a boy coming home for a month and meeting someone whom I haven't seen for four months and people are afraid to merge. ↗
Just because a person successfully steers a voyage through hell doesn't mean he ever wants to sail that route again. ↗
#hell #overcoming-adversity #richelle #richelle-goodrich #suffering
What is seen by mind, is an environmental image that projected by public consciousness in vicinity. ↗
