a love story; that never began.


Channel's geo and language: not specified, not specified
Category: not specified


There was one woman, a few years back, who always had the most gorgeous perfumes, so she was buried underneath the stargazer lilies and in only a few days their scent got noticeably stronger and much sweeter.

Related channels

Channel's geo and language
not specified, not specified
Category
not specified
Statistics
Posts filter


Iri




aneh


Lovely. 💛, [Apr 12, 2021 at 12:26]
GUE MAU IKUT PUASA
Tsumiki Fushiguro., [Apr 12, 2021 at 12:26]
KAMU KN KRISTEN
Lovely. 💛, [Apr 12, 2021 at 12:26]
SETERAHKU. AKU MAU IKUT COWOKU




Forward from: #11 宮 治
• Anonymous: spill yang ngajak spo session bs?😏😏

Why not? kan tadi abis spo session date




hi
Poll
  •   halo
  •   hai juga
15 votes








She liked to bury them in the sunshine when she could, though sometimes it was nice if there was only a light hazing of rain cooling her down, making everything moist and damp. She had high walls with trees lining them and the houses were well spaced out so no one would see what she was doing, she always buried them deep, so the rain and elements wouldn’t be able to unearth them, and wild animals would not be tempted to dig for them. She was always methodical about it. First she would see the person, it could be anywhere really, at the shops, while out eating, during her walks, then, after selecting them, she would decide what flowers needed them the most or, sometimes, which flowers seemed to suit them


Working in the garden soothed her thoughts which were sometimes chaotic, it was peaceful and quiet and it held so many memories. It had always been her refuge as a child, if something upset her, she would go outside and start gardening, kneeling for hours, digging and planting. It would calm her down and allow her to assess her thoughts slowly, one at a time, she could think things over and there was no one there to rush her or judge her, if she needed to she could tell the plants her problems and they would listen. They wouldn’t offer advice, as she sometimes wished they would, but they would listen, their heads nodding in the breeze and, sometimes, it appeared in sympathy. It wouldn’t be that unlikely, considering the fertiliser she used. As far as she was concerned the flowers absorbed aspects of the person buried beneath them. They’d have a brighter shine because she had shiny hair, they’d be flawless because he had perfect skin.


She made sure to plant something new at least once a month and, during winter, she would wait impatiently for the earth to soften once more so she could go back to her tending. She continued winter maintenance but, with growth slowed there was not much to do, the garden looked drab and grey unless it snowed and then everything took on new dimensions, everything clean and bright and white. She liked the difference that came with winter and summer, though sometimes it did depress her, the stark contrast, this more than anything prevented her from researching plants that bloomed, or retained colour during the winter months. Instead, everything receded, died or shed it’s leaves while waiting for the new year to begin, the trees dotted around the garden becoming skeletal sentinels, guarding the garden against any intrusions until next year when everything would be in full bloom.


The house was always kept clean, she did a check every morning to make sure there was nothing amiss, an easy job as she lived alone, anything she found out of place was put back, anything dirty was cleaned. The entire house was cleaned once every two weeks. Despite her propensity for neatness, her favourite place was the garden, where she had tried and failed to impose order. Oh yes, she could arrange flowers and flower beds and make everything appear somewhat neat and planned, but nature didn’t like to be so neat. It was a constant battle, one that she found peaceful and relaxing. A trowel in one hand, the other tugging at some offending plant or weed. The cool, damp feeling of the earth as it stuck to her skin, the deep smells the surrounded her.


She sipped her coffee, it was hot and bitter, normally she added milk and sugar, but not this time. She didn’t want the taste diluted. Occasionally she did this with her drinks and foods, tasted them unaltered. It allowed her to appreciate the changes she made. If she ate nothing but amazing food, it would eventually become bland. The extraordinary would become ordinary. There was still half a cup left, she planned to drink the entire thing, but it was sitting in her stomach, heavy and acidic, sighing, she poured the rest of it down the sink. She would appreciate her next cup all the more, perhaps add a little extra spice, maybe some vanilla sugar to help bring out the flavours.


summerchild. (2021)
The slight scent of smoke on the warm breeze filled her nose, an erapturing wonderment of idyllic october: in disguise as an exuberant hare with irrepressible enchantment. They’re she goes, the miraculous mysterious lady: Tsumiki.

17 last posts shown.

130

subscribers
Channel statistics