Sentences with phrase «truly rock your look»

Accessories can make or break an outfit, so if you want to truly rock your look, you can't afford to ignore the finer details.

Not exact matches

When you're looking for a truly adorable newborn co sleep bed to help welcome your little one into the world, check out the Dostzon Wood Baby Cradle Rocking Crib Bassinet Bed Sleeper.

So if there is to be another Einstein, then we should probably look for the kind of breakthroughs that might truly rock our sense of ourselves — and that may not come from physics anymore.

It's a time to wear those looks you often can't find an occasion to rock and to truly showcase your finest ensembles, and to embrace the luxe side of fashion week.

The dress also has a front thigh high front split, giving it a rock & roll chic look and it is truly a must for any wardrobe!

So remember last week I blogged about my Total Rock Star Look sponsored by Glam Media well yours truly was one of the winners of the Rock & Republic Kohl's Giveaway along side with Brown Bombshell Beauty and I'm beyond excitedd * screaming for joy * When I read the email that I was one of the winners of the giveaway I couldn't believe my eyes.

You truly look like you're headed to a rock and roll concert!

Today, there's a universal desire to discover love and more and more White Rock singles are looking for someone truly right for them online.

The lows never hit rock bottom so as to drag down the mood, but they make you concerned enough that when things are looking up, you truly can't help, but to smile.

With 2015 well and truly gone the Flickering Myth Gaming Team look towards 2016 and take a punt at what games are really going to rock 2016....

The game truly feels like a knock off Metroid / Zelda hybrid, however a closer look at some of the mechanics will allow someone to see the shadows of what Rock star would soon come to develop.

, you are lying on the floor of your place looking up, a small draft runs through the room, between the door and the window, and all things seem perfectly still, wind only disturbs concrete in imperceptible ways, or it may take millions of years to be noticed and, as the air runs through the space, all your plants move and all is animated and all is alive somehow, and here are the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they are not original with me, and that wind upon your plants is the common air that bathes the globe, and we have no ambitions of universalism, and I'm glad we don't, but the particles of air bring traces of pollen and are charged with electricity, desert sand, maybe sea water, and these particles were somewhere else before they were dragged here, and their route will not end by the door of this house, and if we tell each other stories, one can imagine that they might have been bathed by this same air, regrouped and recombined, recharged as a vehicle for sound, swirling as it moves, bringing the sound of a drum, like that Kabuki story where a fox recognizes the voice of its parents as a girl plays a drum made out of their skin, or any other event, and yet I always felt your work never tells stories, I tend to think that narrative implies a past tense, even if that past was just five seconds ago, one second ago was already the past, and human memory is irrelevant in geological time, plants and fish know not what tomorrow will bring, neither rocks nor metal do, but we all live here now, and we all need visions and we all need dreams, and as long as your metal sculptures vibrate they are always in the Present, and their past is a material truth alien to narrative, but well, maybe narrative does not imply a past tense at all and they are writing their own story while they gently move and breathe, and maybe nothing was really still before the wind came in, passing through the window as if through an irrational portal to make those plants dance, but everything was already moving and breathing in near complete silence, and if you're focused enough you can feel the pulse of a concrete wall and you can feel the tectonic movements of the earth, and you can hear the magma flowing under our feet and our bones crackling like a wild fire, and you can see the light of fireflies reflected in polished metal, and there is nothing magical about that, it is just the way things are, and sometimes we have to raise our voice because the music is too loud and let your clothes move to a powerful bass, sound waves and bright lights, powerful like the sun, blinding us if we stare for too long, but isn't it the biggest sign of love, like singing to a corn field, and all acts of kindness that are not pitiful nor utilitarian, that are truly horizontal as everything around us is impregnated with the deadliest violence, vertical and systemic, poisonous, and sometimes you just want to feel the sun burning your skin and look for life in all things declared dead, a kind of vitality that operates like corrosion, strong as the wind near the sea, transforming all things,