We move on a track like a train. We see no choices although on either side of us is a vast, limitless plain of possibilities. Why not get off the track? What holds us there? If we continue on the track, what lies at the end? But if we get off the track, what may be worse?
The cool power of tons of water, the skimming on top, through, above, below, the tan taut athletic bodies, the scruffy salt-laden hair, the laid back pot-smoking withdrawal from the world. Maybe next life.
I went to the site. My word was “fake.” I was flummoxed. I don’t do well on timed tests.
My word was track:
Stay on track. Don’t deviate from your course. If your track is round you have no destination, but only a journey. Follow the less beaten track.
I got track as well:
We move on a track like a train. We see no choices although on either side of us is a vast, limitless plain of possibilities. Why not get off the track? What holds us there? If we continue on the track, what lies at the end? But if we get off the track, what may be worse?
Got track, too. But when I was going to hit apple-C and copy it, I accidentally hit apple-V. Whoosh. Gone for good.
My word was “event”.
An event. Significance is lent. Pressure builds. Dress codes, codes of conduct, secret codes. Explosions, flowers, schedules, excitement.
Marc: apple-Z is your friend.
I did it again. Word, “surf”:
The cool power of tons of water, the skimming on top, through, above, below, the tan taut athletic bodies, the scruffy salt-laden hair, the laid back pot-smoking withdrawal from the world. Maybe next life.