Not to be dramatic or anything but every time I listen to something by Adam Young I literally feel like I’m swinging on the branch of a tree in a field of flowers with a blue sky full of puffy clouds while he’s telling me that even though I can’t see it now, the world is a place where good and beautiful things can happen and that he believes in me and I’m capable of doing anything in life no matter how dark’s the place I’m in. What a blessing.
Hi, i want to ask how to be good in French. I am learning Frensh for few years now and sometime words synomymes or sentence structure and bloody hell 'conjugaison' drive me insane. so can you give me a little help? And thank you.
My advice is to go and try to learn something else because French is the Devil’s second name x_x It’s okay when you’re a native but when you’re someone who tries to learn when older, let’s say you might be very easily discouraged.
Honestly, I have no idea what advice to give you, other than the fact that french sometimes is fancy on purpose to the point where it’s hard to understand, that objects have a gender, that when something is in plural we put “s” at the end of nouns and “ent” that we don’t even pronounce at the end of third plural person conjugated verbs - basically, good luck. :’D
I was doing my usual rounds in the worst parts of Fukushima when I saw this young man, a foreigner, probably about my age, who had been beaten up minutes ago.
He had blood on his shirt and face. A few scratches and dirt scuffs as well. His Armani suit was disheveled. He’s probably a businessman or some political dignitary judging from his rather formal (yet now scruffy) appearance.
Not many people know this, but I’m also a former paramedic
And so, I grabbed a First Aid kit from a near by store and cleaned him up.
“Are you okay, sir?” I asked as I knelt down beside him.
Cerulean topaz eyes kept their gaze on me as I managed to treat his wounded face.
He chuckled, and said he was fine. And I asked him to please head out to his destination as this area wasn’t exactly the place normal people chose to meet.
I groaned, silently cursing that JJ Leroy.
Struggling to get up off the ground, I failed to notice a young man appeoach me.
SHIT. The police.
As he knelt down beside me, I squealed internally. The hell-?
(Fangirl here with me, please.)
Gods….. he was an angel. Beautiful dark chocolate eyes. Peachy smooth skin.
Lord Almighty, now that You have our beloved Dussolier in your arms, I pray to You, remind him of that afternoon when we ran away together from the orphanage. Remind him of the fear and freedom we felt on that rainy afternoon. And reassure him, there’s nothing wrong… We wanted to live the lives of the great baseball player, the elderly gas station attendant on the county road, the heroic soldier, the lowlife New York musician, the fireman, the blue-water sailor. Remind him not to weep when he remembers that we lived only the simple, drab life of the priest. Such a strange life. A life of hope and prayer that You, Lord Almighty, really do exist, and might think about us.