11pm
I’m bored so here’s some sentences e I just thought because I like words and writing dumb things.
“The name he claimed to be his own, is rather bland. It never had been uttered by another. For he cycled through many names, reason be not known. Nor thought. Pondered he, his self, who shall he be? One of many; or the favored? A curious decision to be made. At what point would it have to get, to settle? One cannot become another as though attire be worn.”
My writing most definitely makes sense. I’m not sure at all. Just imagine some person staring into a vanity mirror, their hair the same color as a foggy flower field calming after a rainstorm. They dress in a silk button up and a head scarf that doesn’t cover their head much, almost a headband, yet not quite. Lastly, their skin is olive, a light brown, not pale.
There we go, a character without a permanent name, just that they are part of fancy folk, and struggle with who they are, whatever the reason may be.
I’m not sure what the spontaneous characters problem stems from. I haven’t decided, nor will I ever.