There is going to be three main guys. One guy loves dogs so much. And then he is hiding in someone’s place. Playing with his dog. and he starts to bark so he has to put them down.
You know that snipers can shoot between two breaths?
what is between two breaths?
there is a pause, and I love you even there!
you are weirdly good at phrasing someone else's lines, shubh.
thats what I used to do when you weren;t around.
You know that snipers can shoot between two breaths?
what is between two breaths?
there is a pause, and I love you even there!
you are weirdly good at phrasing someone else's lines, shubh.
thats what I used to do when you weren;t around.
I love you, so I am expected to feel that this is eternal and special, different from others.
but what if everybody thinks like that. and I am sure they do.
I am already this tiny in this world. my love for you is what makes me able to scream at the universe with confidence. but if this isn't different too, how do I make a stand?
why do you want to make a stand?
because I want my paining on the wall of a club. what else?
It was never just about drugs. It was about what it does to you. just like money, you don't like those green printed papers do you? you like what that paper does to you. money gives you freedom to do and be what makes you happy, to go to the places which make you happy, to fuck the kind of girls that would make you happy. but there is something better in drugs that isn't in money. you need to work hard to attain that kind of money I'm talking about. drugs are the shortcut to that happiness without working your ass so hard. they cost 100 bucks a pop, max.
there is this guy in the story, rich like hell, son of a politician or something. has a villa near lonavala. he runs a party marathon, calls his people members of the caravan, and he pretends to be like a leader to them. this fits because he is the son of a politician and naturally he has the genes and the urge to lead. but from inside, he is more artistic, he paints and he has travelled the world. its like the dreamville of tomorrowland on a much smaller scale. he has acres of property. he has a lot of drugs he has a lot of followers. and he has some really strange rules. like when a new person is accepted in his commune, he is bathed in drugs, he is slapped hard and his gravestone is marked in the graveyard far back in the property. (where somebody might just sit and stare at his own gravestone)
C'mon please say something else. these couldn't be your last words. please say something else.
one guy always has khalil gibhran's complete works in his hands, not the same guy who owns the villa, someone else. otherwise it'd be too obvious. and he keeps telling snippets from the book. about love: "when love beckons to you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep, and when his wings enfold you yiend to him, though the swords hidden among his pinions may wound you, and when he speaks to you, believe in him, though his voices may shatter your dreams like the north winds lay waste the garden
but what if everybody thinks like that. and I am sure they do.
I am already this tiny in this world. my love for you is what makes me able to scream at the universe with confidence. but if this isn't different too, how do I make a stand?
why do you want to make a stand?
because I want my paining on the wall of a club. what else?
It was never just about drugs. It was about what it does to you. just like money, you don't like those green printed papers do you? you like what that paper does to you. money gives you freedom to do and be what makes you happy, to go to the places which make you happy, to fuck the kind of girls that would make you happy. but there is something better in drugs that isn't in money. you need to work hard to attain that kind of money I'm talking about. drugs are the shortcut to that happiness without working your ass so hard. they cost 100 bucks a pop, max.
there is this guy in the story, rich like hell, son of a politician or something. has a villa near lonavala. he runs a party marathon, calls his people members of the caravan, and he pretends to be like a leader to them. this fits because he is the son of a politician and naturally he has the genes and the urge to lead. but from inside, he is more artistic, he paints and he has travelled the world. its like the dreamville of tomorrowland on a much smaller scale. he has acres of property. he has a lot of drugs he has a lot of followers. and he has some really strange rules. like when a new person is accepted in his commune, he is bathed in drugs, he is slapped hard and his gravestone is marked in the graveyard far back in the property. (where somebody might just sit and stare at his own gravestone)
C'mon please say something else. these couldn't be your last words. please say something else.
one guy always has khalil gibhran's complete works in his hands, not the same guy who owns the villa, someone else. otherwise it'd be too obvious. and he keeps telling snippets from the book. about love: "when love beckons to you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep, and when his wings enfold you yiend to him, though the swords hidden among his pinions may wound you, and when he speaks to you, believe in him, though his voices may shatter your dreams like the north winds lay waste the garden
