hailstorm. raps on the thick glass of the window seemed a drummer solo drunk. Jack was alone in the office, only with several piles of paper, yellowed documents and papers, a chair and a desk. on the desk there were only a bottle of wild turkey, a pen, a phone and a piece of paper, nothing else. on the paper there was only this address: 152, westdolber road, and a huge point interrogrativo at the end of the address.
type type type type type ... I'm back improvised writer. I wanted to write a story with four hands with FAU and just for fun I put down these lines on the fly, without a specific subject or idea of \u200b\u200bwhere they could bear, so much for a beginning to work on. but then we did not know what to do at the hapless Jack, with his papers, his whiskey and his interim address, so eventually we left there, alone in his office, opting for another person. quest'incipit just does not seem too bad then, it should be filed and certainly improved, but is full of potential hubs dramaturgical, and I regret throwing it away. so I turn to the spirit of the narrative that lies within you and ask you: Does anyone want to help me carry it forward? f
csxqp: The Velvet Underground & Nico - "The Black Angel's Death Song"
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