The banjo temporarily froze his ride. The sonata camouflaged in the handsome notes rimmed pitilessly, creating whimsical melodies he so desperately wanted to defuse. Carbon paper of disgusted impunity, he insanely believed the transgression fitted the punishment. The fellow renegade broke with tradition and feverishly pondered in the corridor of what could be, rerouting his path to adopting tomorrow wise choices.
©️Angela Aguiar
If I were an alphabet, I would typify myself as a valley, accentuated with a mutable lawn, busty decor of regal flowers covering the decadent book and thesaurus ready to jump at any moments notice. I would use the best piercing, bright shining letters I could find in the dictionary and make a sitcom of chatty words that would silently parachute on paper, the ones way up there humorously sedating the phrases cocooned in flash drives ready to be printed. Snitching on the thesaurus it wasn’t as Google would say, don’t call me by my name, embracing the pitiable paragraph about an engraved picture, it was but a music note it wasn’t either.
©️Angela Aguiar
The subtle clues were obvious, unveiling a passionate incision that obsessively unlocked his creative resolve, strengthening the fibers of his existence. It sparkled enthusiasm, quietly jiving in different direction, thrilling the occasional hesitant soul.
©️Angela Aguiar
ludlum drive 
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