They're such beautiful shirts," she sobbed, her voice muffled in the thick folds. "It makes me sad because I've never seen such--- such beautiful shirts before."

I wrote this sonnet for an english class two years ago, it actually sounds pretty good, its from Jay Gatsby's POV

The summer nights were endless in New York, and a waltz was always playing. They were all lost in the game of the twenties." Prose in Nick's POV.

Gatsby poem. A reflection of the sudden, precise moment that was Gatsby's funeral after the gentle dream of summer.

An insignificant gardener's view of a man waiting for a lost love (a monologue for a scene in The Great Gatsby).

Taking the focus off Gatsby for a sec, Nick and Jordan discuss us the more innocent side of 1920s romance.