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His baldness looked incomplete; he had frizzy white hairs plastered against both sides of his head. It looked like a mountain after a big forest fire.
There was a short tail attached to the back of the sheep man’s outfit that bounced from side to side with each step, like a pendulum.
Her movements were as quick and light as a May breeze.
Like a blind dolphin, the night of the new moon silently drew near.
“You’ve made far more headway than I anticipated. You’re quite a boy.” “Thank you, sir,” I replied. I do love being praised.
At the same time, my anxiety had turned into an anxiety quite lacking in anxiousness. And any anxiety that is not especially anxious is, in the end, an anxiety hardly worth mentioning.
