which process, that process.

Everything ends when you stop doing it.
It does not exist any more.
It falls down,
like a tear.
slowly.


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LONDON RUNS OUT OF SUN

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One of the most exciting things in London could be the attitude. Today my friend and i were sat in a stone bench next to Soho, a very nice neighborhood here in London. There was a randomer sat alone looking to the sky. He asked us if we minded being on a photo he was going to take, and well… i would have said yes, but actually I replied no. He took it, we kept having lunch and, two seconds after, he told us well… you were not in the photo, we laugh, looked at each other and kept eating. As far as he returned to his original position like a chameleon changes its color, he firmly stood up and started again from the very beginning. As we finished our lunch… tried to went our way to the tube but the individual suddenly said; “well I pretended you both being in my photo but you are leaving”. After experiencing this weird and estrange situation, what should I think about attitude here? What do you make out of all this? -          Randomers go...
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He & she

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He looked at her, she was staring at him for a minute or so and then it stopped, he smiled.  It had been happening for three days in a row. Then it stopped again.  They could perfectly understand each other. His eyes were full of passion, hers were more kind of doubtful.  She read his mind. He read hers. There was a bunch of emerging emotions which had been inside both of them for a while. They blew up as it was expected.  He took her hand, assertively. Her eyes hold a bright shadow between her eyebrows and cheeks, and there was a peaceful expression upon her face. There was a transparent light between them. It linked them both in such a reciprocal manner that a burning desire of kissing emerged.  Then, a mark on his heart, like an ever fixed stain, appeared in the middle of his chest as if his emotions were going to be released. However, they were not. He kept the truth inside his heart and told it with his eyes.  They never let go ...
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IS THERE A CORRECT WAY OF READING “GOTHIC FICTION”?

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