She was stunning.
Drop a brick on your foot stunning. Without the trouble of carrying a brick around with you everywhere, only to lose hold of it and drop the thing on your foot. Same general principle, though.
Not that I mean the past tense when I use it in describing her.
She's every bit as lovely now, every bit as stunning, as I've said, as she is now. It's just a good deal easier and probably better form to use the past tense when referring to something (or one, don't want to objectify her, though I may have already transgressed that line by comparing her (thee) to a brick, though I apologise now for transgressing that line, if, indeed, I did, because I would be terribly remiss and probably would get absolutely no where, going about, comparing people to bricks, when I could probably come up with a much better metaphor like celestial bodies, or flowers, or mythical figures, or a really really attractive and intelligent person, any of which would fit quite well, if I were in the mood for objectifying, but in a rather nice sort of way, a way in which I might not even be bothered being described, though it's not me we're talking about here) in most forms of print, including, funnily enough, this one (which is actually two, one being written on the back of a letter from my bank in a Thai restaurant in Earl's Court, the other the one you're looking at). A literary convention, if you will.
It (this thing) also happens to satisfy quite a few other literary conventions, themes, and forms, none of which I will bother with here, now.
[the waiter just tried to steal my glass.]
So we're all relatively sorted, she's still stunning, we're all good.
Yes. Very sorted. Very lovely.
As you may have guessed, skipping in between the past and present, some sort of imaginary middle ground between the two, as well as straddling literary conventions and such, which is an entirely unnatural position to be in, if you think of it in the normal sort of "things function this way, blah blah, this'll happen here, here's where to go, why the hell have you forgotten to pick up the milk again, do you have some sort of concentration or memory problem?" way, but it's wonderful how hilariously often (and adverbally) things, as they appear to be, are nothing at all like normality (or even spelled somewhat close), but rather something like you'd imagine a brick dropping on your foot (dropping slow? In a bee-loud glade? What?) very and completely hard, stunning, even. Skipped right on off, lovely.
She is stunning, I would say.
disclaimer:
So it's all sorted, all's well that ends well, fifteen badgers fail to go hungry yet again.
Don't read this issue while eating Turkish food, shown to cause severe gastronomic indignities.
Consuming large amounts of anything whilst hanging upside-down, if, indeed, you know which is which, could be considered a talent by some, dangerous by others, and by still others lovely. There is no accounting for taste.
Yer Weekly Horoscopes. left these, erm... around, somewhere.