It’s true. For example, today I pondered the loveliness of pieces of celery that have been cooked in soup. I love celery that’s been cooked in soup.
Also, I like the letters Q, X, Y, and V, and I love to write capital “L”s in cursive.
I love the feeling that I get when I brush my teeth after not having done so for a fair bit of time.
I enjoy showers, especially hot showers.
I find old film cameras particularly engaging.
I like singing, (though others may not enjoy the resulting sound).
Though the longevity of the resulting order is seldom great, I like to organize things.
I like most animals, though I hold goats in disdain.
I love sitting outside in the dark, listening to the world go about its business.
I love traveling and seeing things new to my eyes.
I like writing.
I guess I like silly things.
I don’t, however, like goodbyes. So, see you next time!
The sun is shining down behind them; their shadows stretch on and intermingle with the trees and mottled brick pathway. The birds are taking shelter in the trees and shrubs, for the wind is playing with everything it can find. Ducks are voicing their concern over the blustery day. The water in the fountain attempts to escape from the marble sculpture, but the stone angels continue their eternal task of pouring their never-emptying bowls and pitchers. The couple sitting on the wrought iron bench watch as nature and humanity perform their ever varying dance.
He is young. His hair drapes over his face like the roots of a bodyless plant. His glasses are square; they frame his eyes to form the impressions of two portraits of tiny universes. The thin, light grey jacket rests casually over the t-shirt inscribed with the name of some moderately well-known indie band. Flip-flops and a fairly nice analog watch complete the casual ensemble. His gaze is deep, and he is in the middle of some statement—obviously heartfelt.
She is listening, but her eyes are focused on something in the foreground of the scene before them. Her silky black hair has no resistance against the breath of the winds. Her sun dress and handmade hat fit well with her pale skin. Her handbag is sitting next to the bench, very assessable, but threatening to spill its contents if not adjusted. A note, waiting to be read, peeks from the flap.
The sky melds into the trees, and the clouds gradually form as a brush gently touches the paper. The artist looks at his work and debates between two frames that would variously complement different elements of the painting. The trees quiver slightly as the world is shaken by the scratch of a pen. The ducks watch as a signature is drawn in the grass. The couple continue their pose, frozen in time to be framed and admired. Thus is completed the portrait of an apology.
I started writing this a while back, and it sat on my hard drive. I’m thinking of working on some more fiction, but I’m not sure what direction I’m going to head. I like the worlds of Tolkien and Lewis, but that genre is far too crowded. Any ideas are quite welcome!
If you look closely into the seemingly bland sunset image of grass and shrubbery, you will see a rabbit hunkered next to the brush. He (or she) let me get within about five feet, and the rabbit stayed still long enough for me to about three long exposure shots, plus some quick images. Click here for a close-up of my furry friend.
Have a great day!