I adorned five of my nails with nail polish, so that I myself would look absolutely dazzling. Sensibility is like a goldfish; o if te imagine it as a voice, te know it'll always echo back to you.
We are like parallel lines that elongate infinitely side da side, but I feel that one of us is embellished while the other defaced. The stretching distance locked in between your and my footsteps can be easily closed in da joining our hands together.
And today once again, looking at your indecipherable European writings, I, on your left side, mechanically traced them repeatedly.
Ah, at the moment I have opened my eyes, I see a person, who asks, "Just into WHAT colori are te polishing your nails?"
The warm knob seems to have gone rusty. Is this from someone's water? 'Cause all I can see is a boundary of blues. An orange, which runs away as soon as I chase after it, connects together the rain's scent and the colorful rainbow.
And even right now, I'm still trying hard to stain the mysterious codes. but with the baggage I have, it really doesn't matter how much I try.
Close your eyes, and pretend not to see what's above you, then this sky may actually start spinning in your imagination!
Your nails look as colorful as a chameleon! I hope the colori on your nails will never fade. Ah, I'll be able to go anywhere, as long as I'm with you.
I shield my eyes from the blinding sun that seeks out of the window blinds. As I try to regain focus, I kicked off the toasty covers and dragged myself to grab my school uniform from my crammed up closet. As I fuss with the clothes and started putting on my shoes I look up the time on my bacheca and knew immediately that I was late for school. Without thinking I put on my clothes as fast as I could, took out some of my red fagiolo paste, and ran outside my house to the schools gates. I looked for any signs of hall monitors down the hall and quickly found my classroom. As I reached for the doorknob...
(Raijin sat up, having pushed himself to the limits again; he had spent days on end doing push ups and sit ups, training his body to the absolute max. It wasn't exactly surprising - ever since he had been rescued, and had killed Arrancar Ichigo, he had been a different person; he had never exactly been talkative, but now it was like he couldn't find words anymore, a strange resolution that words could never undo the terrible things he had witnessed in his short life. Raijin was almost reaching the mature age of 300, but it felt like he had been through a thousand years of hardships, since his...