Top Notes 
Heart Notes 
Base Notes 
05/30/2021
Tofuwachtel
23 Reviews
Translated
Show original
Tofuwachtel
Top Review
39
Mobile Woman
Krck ... Krck ... Wromm ... Glog ... Glog ... Glog
By the third time, she had kicked off the old Indian. Now the engine bubbled away as she tossed the braided long braid of her hair, shining almost light brown in the sun, down her back and put on her helmet.
Everything she would need tonight was stowed in the panniers. One more quick pull on the self-turner and yanked the tap open. Off she went.
It was one of the first warmer days and the spicy air was already shimmering a little as she drove through the suburb.
Past the blooming front gardens where she always loved the carnations so much. Especially when they weren't accurately circled borders. She preferred it when the blooms blended and blended into one another.
Crap, traffic jam. And no way to get through.
Determined, she left the road and turned into the small path. Cruised slowly through the green countryside. Narrow was the path. Left and right stood herbage and now and then she had to be careful not to drive over branches whose wood shimmered like silk in the sunlight.
Then again old trees cast great shadows and it was to her as if something were moving in the undergrowth.
At a bend, the old girl almost slipped away from her on slightly damp earth. She stopped and collected herself. Leaned against an ancient, thick log for quite a while, sucking in deeply the spice that surrounded her.
After a few hours, the destination was reached. She quickly got her things out of her pockets, peeled herself out of her clothes, powdered her face a bit, drew a line of kohl under her eyes, undid her braid, and combed her long, brown mane, which also contained a few silver highlights.
The moss green large amber jewelry matched perfectly with the elegant, casual brown velvet dress that fell softly around her, setting off her curves perfectly.
She had missed the church wedding. The party was already in full swing and when she entered the hall was played "Tubular Bells"
By the third time, she had kicked off the old Indian. Now the engine bubbled away as she tossed the braided long braid of her hair, shining almost light brown in the sun, down her back and put on her helmet.
Everything she would need tonight was stowed in the panniers. One more quick pull on the self-turner and yanked the tap open. Off she went.
It was one of the first warmer days and the spicy air was already shimmering a little as she drove through the suburb.
Past the blooming front gardens where she always loved the carnations so much. Especially when they weren't accurately circled borders. She preferred it when the blooms blended and blended into one another.
Crap, traffic jam. And no way to get through.
Determined, she left the road and turned into the small path. Cruised slowly through the green countryside. Narrow was the path. Left and right stood herbage and now and then she had to be careful not to drive over branches whose wood shimmered like silk in the sunlight.
Then again old trees cast great shadows and it was to her as if something were moving in the undergrowth.
At a bend, the old girl almost slipped away from her on slightly damp earth. She stopped and collected herself. Leaned against an ancient, thick log for quite a while, sucking in deeply the spice that surrounded her.
After a few hours, the destination was reached. She quickly got her things out of her pockets, peeled herself out of her clothes, powdered her face a bit, drew a line of kohl under her eyes, undid her braid, and combed her long, brown mane, which also contained a few silver highlights.
The moss green large amber jewelry matched perfectly with the elegant, casual brown velvet dress that fell softly around her, setting off her curves perfectly.
She had missed the church wedding. The party was already in full swing and when she entered the hall was played "Tubular Bells"
26 Comments
Trucklady
