Socks
Love is like finding the other sock in a large pile of laundry.
e-Bomb, the fire cracker in a small package. e-Bomb, the philosopher. e-Bomb, the late bloomer staging her own life revolution. e-Bomb, the history watcher. e-Bomb, the lover. e-Bomb, the friend. Welcome to My World. Here's my story.
City Tree by Dan S, inspired by stiletto.love.
1 comments :
My friend, Patrick, says:
I think an important addendum is:
The other sock is always where you least expect it. (like stuck to the inside the arm of a shirt or in that weird space between the dryer drum and the place where the lint screen hangs out)
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