://ParisA Story by E.nuff.Is.E.nuffA short bit. Rough
The metal twinkled against the strong summer light. My white handle bars were torn with all intentions of tearing dry. The noise of playing children muffled under my white tires. The rubber stuck to the tar to the beat of every cycle. My hair flew wild and unkept behind me, and long curls rhythmically patted my back. For the first time I had nothing on my mind. If you know me well enough, you'd declare this impossible, but that day was like no other. Shoes pressed against peddles, callused palms grasped torn handles, and a mind was in Paris.
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1 Review Added on June 19, 2010 Last Updated on June 19, 2010 AuthorE.nuff.Is.E.nuffPhiladelphia area, NJAboutI had a writerscafe account in the past and recently shut it down because I had very little to put up here, but now that I think about it...I can just put all my bits and rough pieces on E.nuff.Is.E.n.. more..Writing
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