His hands keep turning into birds and
flying away from him. 𝘏𝘪𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶.
Yes. 𝘋𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧? I don't have to
answer that. 𝘐𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳. He has a
body but it doesn't matter, clean sheets
on the bed but it doesn't matter. 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴
𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴. 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬
𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘶𝘥, 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘢. You miss
the point: the face in the mirror is a little
traitor, the face in the mirror is a pale
and naked hostage and no one can tell
which room he's being held in. 𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴
𝘪𝘯, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘰𝘵𝘦.
𝘏𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘳 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢 𝘯𝘦𝘵,
𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨. he wants to
move forward into the afternoon because
there is no other choice. 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘦.
Throwing back my head, I screamed as the rage erupted from me. Over and over, I saw Ian falling. Over and over, I heard Casteel shouting—begging for her to stop. Lightning ripped through the sky, heating the air. A deafening boom of thunder exploded, rattling the trees and sending birds flying in every direction. Hisa and the guards froze. Delano pressed back, bumping into Naill. They began to back up slowly—away from me as my fury charged the air, whipping up a storm. And in the distant parts of my mind, I realized it had always been me. It hadn’t been the gods that’d caused the storms. It hadn’t been Nyktos. The blood rain had been them, but this…this was me—the violent stir of energy colliding with the world around me. It had always been me—this absolute power. But I…I wasn’t me. I wasn’t the Queen of Flesh and Fire. My chest rose and fell as my fingers spread wide. I was vengeance and wrath given form, and in the moment, I was exactly what Alastir and the Unseen feared. I was the Bringer of Death and Destruction, and I would tear down the walls they sought to protect themselves with. I would rip apart their homes, scorch their lands, and fill their streets with blood until there was nowhere to run or hide. And then I would destroy them all. Streaks of silver-white energy crackled off my skin as I turned back to the edges of the woods, toward the city.
PoppyKitabı okudu
Having someone beside you makes life livable. I guess the pleasure of living together without waiting for anything or ascribing meaning to, can't be found in anything else.
İn short, ' life is short, birds are flying.'
From its Minamata plant -a huge gray complex of pipes, towers, and tanks- the company had for years routinely dumped its lethal by-products into the heavily fished waters of Minamata Bay.
Birds seemed to be losing their sense of coordination, often falling from their perches or flying into buildings and trees. Cats, too, were acting oddly. They walked with a strange rolling gait, frequently stumbling over their own legs. Many suddenly went mad, running in circles and foaming at the mouth until they fell.
Soon the malady spread to the fishermen and their families. The symptoms of the disease were horrible to watch. Although it was still undiagnosed, physicians knew the disease attacked the central nervous system and the brain, crippling its victimsand eventually rendering them bedridden and incoherent. Forty percent of those poisoned died. Autopsies showed that their brains had become spongelike as cells were eaten away.
With a passion that was both playful and obsessive, he pursued innovative studies of anatomy, fossils, birds, the heart, flying machines, optics, botany, geology, water flows, and weaponry. us he became the archetype of the Renaissance Man, an inspiration to all who believe that the “infinite works of nature,” as he put it, are woven together in a unity filled with marvelous patterns. His ability to combine art and science, made iconic by his drawing of a perfectly
infinite works of nature, benim memleketimde dostum. Doğanın sonsuz eserleri dut,ceviz,alma, bizim buralarda.Kitabı okuyor
Birds are flying over Europe skies,
youtu.be/daqfr6DJsGc