A Quote by Alek Wek
Bones inside clothes. That was war to me.
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I always have a lot of vents and slits in the clothes I design, even inside the pockets so that I can slip my hands inside my clothes and touch my skin. I want to be able to feel my body naked inside my clothes.
Maybe it was a good thing that Bones was putting Don's remains away instead of me. With my current emotional state, I'd probably think the only safe place for his ashes was tucked inside my clothes next to the garlic and weed.
People said making clothes inside out was not proper. I disagreed because clothes that are inside out are as beautiful as a cathedral.
People said making clothes inside out was not proper. I disagreed, because clothes that are inside out are as beautiful as a cathedral.
There was a loneliness because kids my age had video games, tennis. They traveled. They had beautiful clothes. I was wearing my sisters' old clothes that were adjusted on me, because we didn't have money to buy clothes. So that really made me go deep inside on my heart, because the only things I could have with me were my heart and my brain.
We are resident inside with the machinery, a glimmering spread throughout the apparatus. We exist with a wind whispering inside and our moon flexing. Amid the ducts, inside the basilica of bones. The flesh is a neighborhood, but not the life.
This was, I would later realise, a planet of things wrapped inside things. Food inside wrappers. Bodies inside clothes. Contempt inside smiles. Everything was hidden away.
You know nothing of war. War is dark. Black as pitch. It is not a God. It does not laugh or weep. It rewards neither skill nor daring. It is not a trial of souls, not the measure of wills. Even less is it a tool, a means to some womanish end. It is merely the place where the iron bones of the earth meet the hollow bones of men and break them.
We exist with a wind whispering inside and our moon flexing. Amid the ducts, inside the basilica of bones.
He pressed himself into me and kissed my neck, and it was as if everything strong and solid inside me, heart and bones and muscle and gut, softened and melted from the heat of him.
He was in my nose, my mouth, on my skin, inside my cells, deep in the marrow of my bones. Just then, he was everything to me.
I watch clothes on other people, and it's like having a conversation before opening your mouth. For me, clothes come from the mind. They represent what's happening inside, and as long as they feel honestly like what I'm thinking about and going toward, I'm happy to bounce around and experience different things.
I have thought for a long time that the way my clothes hang on me is more important than me inside them.
If you let hope inside, it takes you over. It feeds on your insides and uses your bones to climb and grow. Eventually it becomes the thing that is your bones, that holds you together. Holds you up until you don't know how to live without it anymore. To pull it out of you would kill you entirely.
Bring me liquor, Bones, fast, to take my foot out of my mouth. Cat to Bones
Mencheres. Bones co-ruler, grandsire, Master vampire of incredible power, and the ally who unnerved me the most, had telekinetically held me down so Bones could boink me into submission enroute to the vampire holding cell? Sweet holy Jesus, let me have hallucinated hearing that!
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