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realityshifted2010-02-17 01:27 pm
poshmouthytart.livejournal.com) wrote in realityshifted2010-02-17 01:27 pm
Entry tags:
.002
[Alex Drake is lounging in a lawn chair. It's an average, beat up sort of chair, the kind you would see around public places or, in this specific case, one that originally had residence in a hospital courtyard.
She's enamored with a hefty book in her hands. Knowing Alex, one might suspect it would be rather tedious psychology textbook or perhaps even a disturbingly in-depth police handbook; but closer examination will show that it is, in fact, a directory of dream symbolism. Every once in a while, she scribbles a note in a margin before flipping to a new page. This could, no doubt, go on for hours.
At one point, she glances up around her, a look of surprise on her face followed too quickly by obvious disappointment, and then she's back to her book, and her scribbles, and her constant quest to make sense of nonsense.
Have at her, constructs.]
She's enamored with a hefty book in her hands. Knowing Alex, one might suspect it would be rather tedious psychology textbook or perhaps even a disturbingly in-depth police handbook; but closer examination will show that it is, in fact, a directory of dream symbolism. Every once in a while, she scribbles a note in a margin before flipping to a new page. This could, no doubt, go on for hours.
At one point, she glances up around her, a look of surprise on her face followed too quickly by obvious disappointment, and then she's back to her book, and her scribbles, and her constant quest to make sense of nonsense.
Have at her, constructs.]