Amount of texts to »breathless« 24, and there are 21 texts (87.50%) with a rating above the adjusted level (-3)
Average lenght of texts 111 Characters
Average Rating 2.125 points, 11 Not rated texts
First text on Jun 12th 2000, 12:35:34 wrote
an antiquated misenthrope about breathless
Latest text on May 10th 2007, 09:47:35 wrote
Kevin Dalton about breathless
Some texts that have not been rated at all
(overall: 11)

on Aug 13th 2001, 17:39:05 wrote
jj about breathless

on Jun 2nd 2003, 22:17:13 wrote
gus about breathless

on Mar 4th 2004, 00:23:00 wrote
nicole about breathless

Random associativity, rated above-average positively

Texts to »Breathless«

KD wrote on Jul 25th 2000, 23:37:31 about

breathless

Rating: 32 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

Frank Leigh Dearie was often breathless. He was not a man who would commonly wait for poems, or for a woman to call (or a man for that matter). But he was never the same after Piccadilly. He was breathless with anticipation all the time.

O, Picadilly, he sighed into the empty room. He took a swig of his Macallan and and sighed again.

an antiquated misenthrope wrote on Jun 12th 2000, 12:35:34 about

breathless

Rating: 2 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

i am here in this moment, waiting, the computer in front of me is whirring, the cat comes in through the cat flap and it swings shut, tack, tack, tack, tack, tack, the clock ticks, and my clothes rustle as I my hands move to type this. oh, tell me soon what you think of me my love, and where will go tomorrow. Will we be friends forever, can our joy out live the inevitable sorrow, of loss. Could I bear to lose you. Can we be apart. I am breathless in anticipation. Breathless in my love.

moira wrote on Jul 2nd 2000, 08:26:22 about

breathless

Rating: 5 point(s) | Read and rate text individually

I walked across the room towards the table. I could feel his eyes on me, even as he typed. Wss he writing about me. Was he writing about us? About our fights and passions? About our love making? Who is he speaking to, why?

Maybe he is not writing about me at all. He watches me to make sure I am not looking, that I cannot see. Does he watch out of guilt?

Has he said anything about me here? I know he comes here to read and write. To assoziate.

What does it mean to be somebody's inspiration? What can you do with that power? What do the words they write about do to you?

Will I be followed as I walk through here, looking for answers?

Help me please.

Help me find myself

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