Nov 12, 2025
Like father, like son.
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Poland
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from Italy
seen from Türkiye
seen from Hong Kong SAR China
seen from Singapore
seen from China
seen from Macao SAR China
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from Kazakhstan
seen from Italy
seen from China
seen from Russia
seen from South Korea
seen from Canada
Like father, like son.
I apologize Mr Elordi I was not aware of thine skillz
The Creation's debut single, "Making Time," was released on 17 June 1966.
Written by guitarist Eddie Phillips and singer Kenny Pickett, "Making Time" features Phillips playing his guitar with a violin bow, and produced by Shel Talmy (who also produced songs by The Kinks and The Who). The song peaked at #49 in the UK.
The Creation - Making Time
The Creation, pero no los ingleses sino los de New Albuquerque, New México, con dos sencillos 1967-68 en Centurion, el segundo de ellos, el sorprendente "No Silver Bird", reeditado ahora por Guerssen. Ambos grupos tenían un Phillips en sus filas, los UK a Eddie Phillips, los Creation USA al guitarrista Ernie Phillips. Riff hipnótico / repetitivo pre Silver Apples (más garaje, menos electro) para un tema que les hubiera pegado versionar a The Lyres. La cara B "The Warmth of Love" es matraca popi-sunshine como la incluida en el primer single del grupo.
@versus-written | X
The man spoke like sunlight. A soft warmth that didn't quite make it through the canopy of trees, instead radiated in his words. Sun. Light. Sunlight. Face it. Slowly, carefully, he came out of his defensive huddle and peeked with soulful eyes.
Where did a soul live inside a man? No matter the answer, he was a patchwork of many. Crafted and grafted, only his creator knew the sum of how many men had been reborn from death. He didn't know his origin. He simply woke. He simply was.
There was a childish innocence that persisted. He was curious, and he wanted... love. Belonging. From the perspective of an adult mind he was startlingly quick to place his trust in this stranger, simply because he spoke gently.
His mouth worked silently. A sound tested in his throat. "... afraid." he repeated. It was only a word, he did not understand the meaning, merely parroted it back. As the man spoke, he tried to move his mouth silently, like a child sounding out their words. Like a mirror.
He did not answer the man's question. He did not understand he was supposed to. But that small handful of offered berries? Another gentle friend had taught him about those. "Hungry." he whisper-spoke, gentleness guiding his hand. The unravelling bandages around his wrist brushed the man as he took three berries for himself, exactly half. He fed himself strangely, mimicking the deers movements.
Then, perhaps even stranger, he took the three untouched berries and placed them with a slight smooshing insistence for the man to eat. No was not an option, apparently. "Hungry." he repeated again.
