SanFrancisco's profile

She stood on her patio and stared at the moon for hours. It had never been this new to her before. Maybe this time, the creatures that lived on the dark side would show more signs of their existence. She had herself believe that she wasn't delusional. She had seen something creep out of the shadows on the moon's surface only once, when she was eight. Camping out with her family, she had wandered off again into the maze-like trails, and the moon that particular night was almost as distinct and...

Chapter 1: A Brief Stint With the Eidolon I awoke shivering, covered in beads of cold sweat. The orchestra of crickets was accompanied by the rustling of dried grass in the soft breeze. It was close to pitch black; it was even brighter with my eyes closed. In this moonless night, somehow the heatwave hadn't subsided and the slow dense air was saturated with humidity. Every inhale felt like sucking lead into my lungs, and every exhale made me feel five pounds lighter. I didn't remember where I...

She turned to me quickly with the black glossy softcover book in her hand and read, "Listen to this, 'Approach everything rationally, and you become harsh. Pole along the stream of emotions, and you will be swept away by the current. Give free rein to your desires, and you become uncomfortably confined. It is not a very agreeable place to live, this world of ours.' That's so what you'd be reading." "What do you mean? What is that?" I asked. "That's how you think. That's how I think you think ...

There once was a man who had a hat. He loved his hat very much. He took it everywhere and only took it off to take a shower and go to sleep. To understand how much he loved this hat, you would have to imagine yourself without a soul. If you believe in a god or have ever believed in a god, then you most certainly believe or have believed in a soul. And without your soul, you are nothing. A void in the universe. A hole without an end. A world without a future. So was this man without his hat. O...

...this is just the kind of pretentious bullshit that Americans always say to French girls so they can sleep with them. All I know of Paris is from Descartes, Hemingway, Kerouac, Camus, Celine, "Man Bites Dog" Criterion edition, Rosseau, Jean-Paul Sarte, Jean-Pierre Jeunet, Jean-Luc Godard, "Before Sunset", Voltaire, Audrey Tautou, Jean Reno, Jean Coctea, Francois Truffaut, and a five cd "learn conversational French in two weeks" set. Disney's Beauty and the Beast was set in France but everyo...