Much like walking around in the New York winter without the time limit or setting of Max Payne.
Much like bouncing in randomized patterns, swinging your arms and legs in motions to a rhythm best described as an attempt at music.
Ah-hooo! A bucket full of ash? Coming your way now!
Oh, the share joy of moving in silly fashion, dancing of your heart’s content – spraying smiles all over the place and not spilling the tea on someone’s shirt – because that’s impolite – and jump, jump, jump around! There are flowers, hidden wonders, dancing in the night. There’s apples, ladies and fruit like you wouldn’t believe! Ponies, bronies, fanfiction, deviation, non-damnation, damp socks and wet underwear amongst the unmentionables of the dark mind, filled with corners and soft texture. Fiction crashing with faction, what is real seems dreamy and you’re suddenly afraid of waking up.
"You, see, in this world there’s two kinds of people, my friend: Those with loaded guns and the those who dig. You dig."
Today is a day of animistic inspiration and a whistle in the wind. Sing along, you know the tune.
As such, I went into writing because it seemed like the perfect vehicle for commenting on the madness of today’s existence. Totally untrue, of course. It’s not even my own words. Still, thanks to you, Robert Mapplethorne, for a bending of the art of photography to serve other functions. An ukulele playing William Shatner with glasses on, perhaps?
"We are ready to kill right-winged bigots with just a description of our situation."
And that is why somepony's worth more than just a little lovin'.