Gifts, summers labors.
Fruit coming to fruition.
Robust, natures candy.
How does it work?
More stories from simplicity and writers in Poets and other communities.
Days blend and continue on undisturbed for the most part. There is a lot of waiting in between workouts and eating. There is one repair we are working on. Other than the repair it's all monitoring and stand by. Monotony feels more tirtiring than his workouts and work. Days ends come around and sleep is attempted. We all are adjusting and have interacted minimally so far. We seem humbled by our surroundings and task. Sutton is the crew member easiest to be around. Today passes uneventfully. Sleep comes after counting to around 89. Probably out of boredom and a desire to stop counting.
By simplicityExclusive • 11 months ago
Arbeit Mach Freit. The letters stare at us - twists of rusted, wrought iron, flaking with age. I don’t speak German, but I know what these words mean.
By Maura Bernstein6 days ago in Poets
his lightness of being, unbearably weighted, anchored to fear & tethered to pain, cast upon him by demons, desperate to gain
By Kayleigh Fraser ✨2 days ago in Poets
Rannor looked across the empty field that held wheat in season and watched the sun rise. Oranges, purples, and pinks eked their way across the sky, fighting past the mass of black smoke on the horizon that tried to blot them out.
By Aaron Morrison4 days ago in Fiction
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