WHAT CAN YOU SAY IN 6 SENTENCES?

• He parted the wrinkles in his cheeks, examining them closely as if they were deep cracks, deep flaws created by past hurting that was now unforgettable; A constant reminder of the trials and tribulations of a life not quite full as most but definitely trying. 'Why should I buckle on the outside not the inside?' he thinks. It seemed to him as if everything else in his life had aged well besides his own portrait--beautiful hard back books, his red wines in the cellar, the timber kitchen bench. He combed back his slowly greying hair and gulped down a strong feeling of final realisation. His body was entering the first stages of decay--the stage hardest to wear and the hardest to show to others.
  


• Sometimes I think what it would be like if they turned my life into a movie. It would be a blockbuster I think. I have already decided on the opening credits, the beginning montage, the major climax, turning point.Of course, they would probably have to dramatise a few things but my life is just as interesting as any others right? I think they may need to exagerate some things, maybe twist my childhood to be a bit more life changing, or give me a severe advantage/disadvantage in life to make things interesting. The only think I haven't thought about yet is how the movie will end.

• I don't think she knows really what she is like. She inhales the second hand smoke (after quitting last week) from the man walking infront of her, who is slowly dragging away on his cigarette and with each stride blowing it backwards into the trail of pedestrians. Her mind wanders to the tasks of the day and she begins to start to get that stirring feeling in her stomach that normally signals another relapse in questioning what she is really doing here - in this city, in this place. Her friends no longer listen when she speaks. They tire of her constant neurotic goal of higher perfection. "Must walk faster, must hold my shoulders higher, must appear more confident", she thinks to herself.
  


• I've been working on this story for months now, all around the world it has been in a distressed grey notebook, peeling at the corners and beginning to develop character. Everybody always asks me what it is, whether I'm in the park scribbling away on the inside, sitting at a restaurant on my own frantically trying to come up with interesting ideas, at the movies jotting down notes. It's a one of a kind notebook, and a one of a kind story. I'll show it to you when it is finished, I think you will like it. You will get to read about all kinds of things. I'm just about to start writing my favourite part now. I wish I could tell you how it begins, but that would be spoiling it.