It was neither the best of times, nor the worst of times. It was not the end of time nor the history of time. The times, they were not a-changing. It wasn’t the times of our lives.
What it was, yes, what it was, was that thing that fluttered in the soul and didn’t age, that force that impelled outward with ideas, that issuing forth.
Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “times.”
There are times in our lives when we do things we just don’t understand. I’m not talking about the screw ups here…I’m talking about those times when we feel led to go somewhere or do something completely out of our routine…our plan…without any logical reason. It’s a divine moment…
http://jessicaensminger.spaces.live.com/blog/cns!BBAEDA42596EA5F7!469.entry
These times not great. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not the Great Depression either. Why’d they call it that anyways? How can something depressing be great? But these times aren’t even really depressing. They’re not uplifting. This is not the renaissance, or even close to it. There is no revolution of the mind here. I think it might be quite the opposite, actually. We are complacent, mostly lazy, and too fat for our own good. At least, in THIS country.
How much those Times?
The shop was not out of the ordinary, it didn’t have to flaunt its worth. People who needed knew and came when it mattered. When the pain or loneliness got too much, they came to buy the lost times they could afford.
Grief addicts had a lack of face light.