Sunday, January 3, 2010
"The brilliant light overhead was still blinding-bright, and yet I could plainly see the glowing strands of the filaments inside the bulb. I could see each color of the rainbow in the white light, and, at the very edge of the spectrum, an eighth color I had no name for. Behind the light, I could distinguish the individual grains in the dark wood ceiling above. In front of it, I could see the dust motes in the air, the sides the light touched, and the dark sides, distinct and separate. They spun like little planets, moving around each other in a celestial dance."
And there you have it, a 6ish year old mystery unfathomable to any sane human mind : What the flying fuck was Stephenie Meyer thinking of when she wrote Twilight.
She was on shrooms, dammit..
Ezzrriiieeeeee worded out at 3:42 PM
0 page[s] turned..Fudgecake?!