Howdy everypony,
Today comes the follow up from last week's story, and a warning, it is pretty explicit and filthy~.

Where do we place the value of a life. Do we place it in the individual? Their own experiences and emotions, perhaps a selfish stance. Do we place it in others? Their effect on the lives they have touched? Perhaps on the world at large, the legacy they leave behind? But that would spell dread for all but a few, and even those time will erase.

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Memory. We talk of our memory, of events in the past, so often with grand words of certainty. I know this happened, that is how it happened, you did this. And yet, our memory is the ghosts of shadows coloured by our own perspectives, beliefs, and moods. Memory and the past, both are representations fabricated within our minds. Fleeting.
If memory is fickle, then what is Knowledge or Wisdom?
Knowledge is the information we known in the know.

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We continue the Trip to the Orchard today, time to record another advertisement fot the filthy brothel~. Who is up next? Well, you'll have to brave the studio yourself~.

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And here I thought that Pony month was over. Instead we have a fun filthy vore tale about Rarity inviting Applejack to a particular indulgence. Find a link to it down below.

I can taste the grease in the air. Once I walk out the door, the air becomes infected. All around me are machines and people performing nefarious actions, breathing in what purity is left in our oxygen and expelling billowing clouds of grease. The air is fat. It clogs my gullet to inhale. I am left struggling.

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When I close my eyes, I want to be gone from the world. Everything that was before me, just to be darkness. Just behind my eyelids, an expanse of complete blackness and solitude. However, that is a fantasy. When I close my eyes, the darkness takes shape. The impressions of chiaroscuro filling my perception. An afterimage of the world with light pouring through. As if reality is saying I better haven't forgotten it, and won't escape it or my problems so easily.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

I wish to remain inside. Inside, this place I have crafted, this state of emotions which I have kept in balance, where I can languish in peace. Though, were I to screen reality out, it would soon come knocking. So I pretend, I appease, and I worry, if reality will remain outside.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Sweet memories. What I base my knowledge on, what I base everything on. Everything that colours and warps my perspective, found somewhere in a secluded or pronounced cloud of colours, locations and faces. Without those, there is nothing. There is no path to walk, if I lack the context for walking. But looking back, were I able to see it all, I could surmise where I am going.
In a sense, my past is the map to my future.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

The world is so big, from where were are standing. It stretches out forever, eventually back into itself, though that is far beyond the reach of our sight and comprehension. Instead we stay at the bottom, as an insect peering up at a tower without end. And yet from the top of the tower, soaring above the world, it becomes tiny. A little blue dot, looking up at the vastness of cosmos.
At least the insect can fly for a better view.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Dreary days pass and in their wake leave footprints. Dreary shoes dig down in mud and sculpt their image on the road. Tired legs struggle through their aching muscles, moving forward once and again. For the path their footprints lay, turns solid ground for the next wanderer.

Happy Black Friday~.

Times appears to move slower when there is nothing to spend it on. An observation made my many, though why? is it a phenomenon of coincidence, or or deliberation. Perhaps it is far more distant and ethereal. For you see, time as we perceive it exists only when we measure it. Until we observe it, its existence remains in flux, or perhaps entirely in-existent.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Greetings, and welcome to Filthy Friday~.

Today we have a tale that has been marinating and brewing for a while, ready to pounce when you least expect it... A situation the story's protagonist is all too familiar with, as it turns out his step mother is a-...

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Spotlight Friday~

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In times where we face ourselves, there is little to exchange. One would believe we have much to say of our own being, yet to ourselves, all is there. All is not known, yet knowing oneself is a sisyphean task, for the process of learning, too, changes our being. Then, instead of talking with ourselves, we merely talk at ourselves, at what we cannot affect grasp, yet our actions can influence, as it always does.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Hidden at the edge of society, along the road to a field, follow the path beyond the premises, and cross the water on the ancient bridge. There, in a hidden house, packed under the worry of clothes, something lies waiting, something without a home.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

We continue the tale of Twilight and the surprise party that never happened, how will we get through to her?

Time makes fools of us all, for in the end we are a product of the now, and the now never lasts. Those in the past may as well be on a different planet for all the connection we have to them, yet some we place on pedestals for what they have done. That will one day be us. Yet, the past also shapes our now, the most relevant factor to the present.

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Time comes as many would call it, too often for our own good. Too often are we made aware of it, acknowledge it. That is when it holds dominion over us. For mankind is a species of intellect, where issues are waged in the abyss of the conscious and unconscious, such have we isolated ourselves from the world.
Even when it pierces our defenses, it is our own thoughts and machinations about the outside, that haunt us the most.

Happy Filthy Friday~.

Keep clean and safe.

I prefer to measure success against myself, rather than others. That way, it ensures that I am evaluating my own abilities and growth, rather than the hum of our species pooled talent.

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At certain moments, we wish we could go back, to experience life from a new angle, to take a peek into what was. OR perhaps, to simply slow down our perception, to see what was around us. Those shining little moments of reality that linger in the back of our mind on days bereft of the moments we cannot point to on a map. At those moments, one wishes they could slice time in half, to halt the beginning and end, for but a snapshot of the majesty of one... single.... instant.

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I can emulate a sense of home, but only to the eye of my mind. The most potent medium to craft and recollect the past, could craft the uttermost detailed and spectacular view of that nostalgia from my past. And yet it is also what will stop me from ever reaching the past, because it lets me know it isn't real.

Happy First Filthy Friday of the year~.

Twas so long ago now, since I knew true peace, the kind which frees one from all obligations. I recall those moments fondly, yet know they cannot come again. Obligations, are healthy. The ones I set for myself aids me through each and every day, despite them perhaps, greedily devouring my time. If they were not spent on my obligations, I would have wasted them elsewhere.
The greatest part of the obligations.

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As days blends into months, our perception picks up speed, as years go by each day becomes an ever diminishing part of our lives. What was once a week feels as but a day, and hours shave as minutes once did.
And yet, some days lasts, if we make it so.

Happy Filthy Friday, and a Happy Vore Day~.