20 minutes and 10 words to work into something - an exercise from
thesquaretable
ethereal, swishy, zealous, taboo, mountain, give, hate, incensed, helium, fumble - with a focus on sound.
*****
She’s always been this way, ever since you moved to Grey Mountain – hippy dippy, weird, fascinating, and running late. She’s not so off the wall that anyone will say they hate her, exactly, but there’s a certain taboo against visiting with her, talking to her, inviting her into your life, enforced by the zealous gossips that you think are endemic to all small towns. As far as you’re concerned that just added to her appeal.
Which is how come you’re sat here now, fumbling with a sketchpad so you’ll look like you belong here in her unfenced yard, where the trees are dressed with ethereal silk scarves and glass beads, and the wind chimes catch every breeze. Every time you come here you think that maybe you can see what she means, that nature does give peace and beauty, creating music out of soft chimes, swishy branches, the distant dance of water over rocks. The revelation never lasts more than a few hours back out in the real world though, but it’s a nice illusion when you can capture it.
Of course, this is her real world, and that’s something you’ve grown to love about her. Her world has peace and beauty and art and freedom and sensuality; ripe home grown berries and dancing in the rain. Yours has school and homework,and a Saturday job giving out helium balloons to grabby toddlers to go with their burgers and their fries. Yours is, and will forever be, dominated by incensed parents who still haven’t forgiven you for forcing them to move districts to escape the gossip and likely never will.
****
Not sure that I worked the sound element in there as much as I wanted - I had such a clear mental scene of the garden, with the chimes and all - although the power of gossip is also in sound, so mebe. Also not qute sure why those words had to be female, but thy sort of did.
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ethereal, swishy, zealous, taboo, mountain, give, hate, incensed, helium, fumble - with a focus on sound.
*****
She’s always been this way, ever since you moved to Grey Mountain – hippy dippy, weird, fascinating, and running late. She’s not so off the wall that anyone will say they hate her, exactly, but there’s a certain taboo against visiting with her, talking to her, inviting her into your life, enforced by the zealous gossips that you think are endemic to all small towns. As far as you’re concerned that just added to her appeal.
Which is how come you’re sat here now, fumbling with a sketchpad so you’ll look like you belong here in her unfenced yard, where the trees are dressed with ethereal silk scarves and glass beads, and the wind chimes catch every breeze. Every time you come here you think that maybe you can see what she means, that nature does give peace and beauty, creating music out of soft chimes, swishy branches, the distant dance of water over rocks. The revelation never lasts more than a few hours back out in the real world though, but it’s a nice illusion when you can capture it.
Of course, this is her real world, and that’s something you’ve grown to love about her. Her world has peace and beauty and art and freedom and sensuality; ripe home grown berries and dancing in the rain. Yours has school and homework,and a Saturday job giving out helium balloons to grabby toddlers to go with their burgers and their fries. Yours is, and will forever be, dominated by incensed parents who still haven’t forgiven you for forcing them to move districts to escape the gossip and likely never will.
****
Not sure that I worked the sound element in there as much as I wanted - I had such a clear mental scene of the garden, with the chimes and all - although the power of gossip is also in sound, so mebe. Also not qute sure why those words had to be female, but thy sort of did.
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