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Slow today, It's quiet today, Where is everyone. Gone away. It Christmas, though. We need to write. And laugh and sing, Of our delight.
The last post made, over an hour ago. All the writers have packed up their show. The communities' lost. The authors gone to bed. This is the time that i did dread. Nothing to read. I've read it all.
This Opuss is being written at a time when it seems most of the community have fallen victim to sleep.
A long day has come to pass, Inky fingers entwine, push against one another, cracking quietly as the artist stretches, he rubs at his eyes, transferring a wash of colour onto his hot red cheeks,...
Opuss is seeming slow today I'm confused as to why It's Monday Funday, where are you all You never said goodbye. Where have all the opussians gone. Why is it so quiet Is it because your all at work.