LIVING IN THE SHADOWS.

Shadows are cool places. You can hide in them. You can play in them. You can be yourself (or whoever else you want to be) in them. 
Shadows have no faces to betray your feelings... no forced smiles... no sad tears... no fierce frowns. 
Shadows have no clothes for people to laugh at... no colour clashes... no mismatched socks... no fashion faux pas. 
In the shadows there are no squiffy teeth... no baggy eyes... no boozy blushes...  no squeeky voices.
In the shadows no one knows how rich or how poor you are... they can't tell the size of your house or your car or your ass.
There is no skin colour... no nationality... no age.

Try it. It'll change your life (Hey, listen... if planking, ironing and owling can take over the world, then surely shadowing is a shoe-in?)

Rules: It's gotta be 'you'. It's gotta be taken by 'you'. That's it.  

IT'S ALL A TOTAL BUSK, ACTUALLY.

"The concrete and the clay beneath my feet begin to crumble, but love will never die."

Who knew that you could squeeze a 'toon' from bricks and dust? 

I DON'T WANT TO BE A BURDEN, BUT...

"My little boy always seemed to have the weight of the world on his shoulders." - Atlas' mum. 

 LIFE'S A BLAST.

 "It's not easy being a shadow... we have feelings too, you know?"

 

  
IT'S ALL IN THE FOOTWORK.

 "Sir Alex has apparently got my number on speed-dial. He says I've just got to get out from under Giggsy's shadow and I'm in."

 
 TWENTY20 VISION

"I wasn't picked for any of the IPL sides but I'm in the shadow eleven in case anyone gets crocked." 

 
 A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME...

How irritating is it when roses quadruple in price on the day before Valentine's Day and catch all the date-challenged males of the world (which is pretty much all of us) by surprise. Give grass, I say. It's cheap, hardy and she's probably going to throw it away anyway.  

GET A LITTLE BALANCE IN YOUR LIFE, SON.

Let's face it, life's a balancing act. Rough and smooth, happy and sad, fun and serious and, in this case, paint and tar.

  
HELMETS AND HAIRSTYLES.

Hats off to the knights of the round table and their hairdressers', I say. Do you know what kind of a birds' nest must have built up under those helmets during a year or two of crusade?