~The bandit’s body slumped to the ground, knees hitting first,followed by the rest.His dead weight pushed dust into the air in a swirling cloud.The blood flowed from his head,splicing like river canals,delaying slightly on pebbles before flowing on through the street.~
It's a pity the dictionary has only one definition of beauty. In my world, there are 7.9 billion types of it- all different and still beautiful. — anne27
