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 Hey, Brother, tag :: l. sharpe
gwen sharpe
 Posted: Aug 19 2015, 10:17 AM
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Kay
YOU CAN CALL ME

25 YEARS OLD
Photojournalist
"Hope when you take that jump, you don't fear the fall. Hope when the water rises, you build a wall. Hope if everybody runs...you choose to stay. Hope when the moment comes you'll say, I did it all."


What felt like days to Gwen, had been no more than an hour in reality. She had been sitting at her desk, fingers hovering over the keyboard while the few people around her tapped away at their keys. Making words so effortlessly appear on their monitor screen. With a heavy, sullen sigh, Gwen slouched in her chair letting her hands slip from off the keyboard and onto her lap. Once again, she was responsible for putting together a small column of information that would be competing with nearly half of the other people in the office space to actually get printed. It was getting old and frustrating and she was about to say screw it and inform the editor that she only wanted to do photographs for the magazine, no writing. But then that would be giving up, wouldn’t it? Something that Gwen was not yet equipped to handle in her line of work.

Pushing her hands against the desk, Gwen backed her rolling chair up enough to comfortably stand. She brushed at the skirt of her dress, straightening the fabric before making her way over to the Keurig tucked away on the other side of the room, closer to the industrial offices for the big name writers of the magazine.

Weaving her way through the crowd of desks and chatty people, she finally found herself to her recently acclaimed life source. With just a few pressed buttons, her hazelnut coffee with extra cream was being made. Gwen turned, leaning back against the coffee table set up and rested her palms on the wooden edges, listening to the brewing of her much needed caffeine. She let her eyes wander, around the office that she’d spent most of her life in now. It wasn’t really what she had imagined, and she had a habit of complaining a lot about it to her friends. But she loved it. She loved the cramped little spaces she had to walk through to reach her own little desk. She liked having her own computer space that she could fill up with whatever she wanted. Sure she would die if she had the chance to get into a big office, but for now, she felt proud for having a spot, even if it was small. Her gaze stretched over the desks, aimlessly watching the working people and busy bodies scurrying around the room.

TOM HARDY MADE ME THIS BRACELET
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