description [Theme] Page 3

The atomic bomb explodes between my legs. Freight train slams into his jaw. I was beaten before, but never like this! Never! The sounds are wet, maybe he still hit me? I don't know... I was there... I went to a place where no pain, no thoughts. I Wake up in the air. The pavement rushes up to give me a big wet kiss.

There was not a drop of understanding or problems of the army, nor the prospects of its development. Once learnt by heart the dogma was completely unmoved in his mind. To Express any opinion other than what was written in the textbooks written ten years before the appearance of Durov in the Armored Academy, was not only useless, but dangerous.

This young man with expressionless face and a small beard was a deep, black, empty, and therefore always hungry. She greedily pulls the wrong hand, trying to fill his emptiness, but it's impossible, and thirst will not be quenched.

I don't think crazy can be so careful. He's just not like the others. I know that many think he is crazy due to the fact that he does not allow people to learn and understand it.

In the evening, in a long and gentle summer dusk, people came out of the apartments, walking dogs, drinking cocktails by the pool, legs dangling in the water. The moon appeared, crouching in the impossible blue of the horizon. <...> I wanted to permanently freeze this moment chime, the quiet lapping of the water, the clanking of dog chains, laughter coming from the pool, the rustle of the ink pen mother, the smell of eucalyptus, the peace and quiet. It would be good to close it all in the locket and hang it on the neck. It would be good in this perfect moment we were attacked by a millennial dream, like Sleeping beauty's castle.

... Her voice - low, deep, warmed by the sun, with a barely perceptible accent - monotone Swedish melody of a bygone generation. You hear it once, you would know the enchanting power of the voice.

Her beauty was like the blade of a very sharp knife.

Triple blush on her cheeks was generated by youth, wine and cosmetics

Naive, not of this world. Communication with her is like a crazy ride. She's like a journey, the aim of which is hidden behind the horizon. She is the embodiment of freedom, but freedom is only in our music.

... accompanying the girl came out of the same unassuming environment, but the youth and prettiness, as well as modest and the living manners made her appearance the imprint of the mind and spiritual grace, which tells the ladies double charm.

He was so tall and strong that it seemed that the earth trembles under the weight of its steps.

Words can't describe this experience. In fact, the words usually do the opposite: they obscure, dismembered, killed. Too often in the process of talking about love, hatred or the hope of one loses touch with what it was supposed to say. Poetry, music and other forms of art is much better suited for describing human experience because they rather pass them, avoiding generalizations and uncertainty of hackneyed cliches, used for an adequate representation of the human experience.
However, given these limitations, it is impossible to deny opportunity to touch feelings through words, not related to poetry. It would be impossible if the person at least to some extent have not experienced what the other person said. To describe the feeling means to indicate its different facets thus to establish communication in which the writer and the reader know that they mean the same thing.

I didn't like his clothes - black sweater and pants, all tight, even slippery to grasp. Clothing for fighting and not for drinking beverages by the fireplace. I liked the black mask hood on his head, leaving only the eyes free. Eyes didn't like - cold, ruthless. It is not like a heavy short stick in his hand.
Yes what there to list the people I absolutely did not like!
And then, as he cautiously approached, holding the stick a little reserved too.