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My madagasgan market place by =hixdei-love:iconhixdei-love:



My madagasgan market place

I walk down the streets of the madagasgan marketplace,
the sound of footsteps and mysterious words.
the smell of rotten meat and cooking rice tingle my nose,
black fly’s and red mosquitoes buzzing around them.
I grasp a small necklace in the palm of my hand,
smooth, yes; beautiful, of Corse; worthless? Never;
objects in this market are cheap, dull; but never worthless,
because they have a different kind of value.
the value of beauty.
©2008-2009 =hixdei-love
:iconhixdei-love:

Author's Comments

my english hw

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:iconelarus:
Cool! I like this sort of writing ^^ It works for you!

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I've been to Hell and back. I would've stayed longer, but they got sick of my jokes, and Mephistophilis kept trying to braid my hair >.<
:iconhixdei-love:
thanks

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November 27, 2008
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