I just want to say I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING
One particular evening, Edward was at the kinanda – contemplating a new composition, playing it only in his mind but its individual notes were tested, refined and approved. Carlisle was perusing a thick book, quite absorbed; Esme was correcting her sketch, Alice and Rosalie were muttering over a ubunifu of some dress while Emmett was getting restless, raring to go - even after just winning an arm-wrestling match against Jasper; he was at the moment wondering if he should ask his brothers to schedule a hiking. Jasper, on the other hand was kusoma the newspaper...
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