A new sort of salvage company arose. They took away the fences of neighbourhoods for sale in reclamation yards to the highest bidder and used the proceeds to instal a conservation woodland where the gardens were. Once the prices of wood would not have supported such a project, yet since we banned making paper and furniture from new wood there were blossoming reclamation yards. The salvage companies benefited nature, contributing to rewilding, it reduced tree felling and improved community mental health. The new neighbourhood conservation zones were also planted with fruit and nut trees to increase nutritional outcomes.
The rain had always been something enchanting to me. Not the romantic, heart and flowers type, but in a different way. It felt as if the Big Guy above all of us were crying. Were despairing at the foolish sins and actions we mortals committed. Either way, it struck me as a wonder of the nature. The rain would bring in it's cold weather, inside which I would feel warm. The aftermath of a shower would be this sweet, earthy smell. It bewitched me. The beads of water upon flower petals were quietly dramatic. Perhaps, a moment for a photo shoot. The sun would shine down after the rain, but there would be nothing hot or sticky about it. The atmosphere would be pleasantly damp, and it would give me the spirit of a dreamy poetess.
Some saw a bullet hole, but she saw the person around it. She saw the pain in the one still living and the potential of those who lay cold in silent greyness. She saw the perfect skin, the arms that the mouth that must have known laughter at one time. She saw a human rather than a statistic and felt the grief of those who loved them and the fracturing echo of the universe.
A royal crown sits upon his head like a boat stuck on a stream in one place. It's like it's entangled in the roots of his hair, like it's apart of him. In the shower, at work, in front of everyone. It's going to be there for ever and ever. But who cares? I like it that way.
The most salient difference between slave and apprentice was not monetary recompense yet social mobility. The work was much the same but whilst the slave had no future, the apprentice became the master. If you wish to know which you are in these modern times, this is the key point to dwell on.
Tears rolled down, wetting every part of her cheek. Her eyes pleaded for Succor and help, albeit that she knew no one was coming. There was only darkness as her own demons haunted and strangled her. She was suffocating. In the pain of abandonment she almost forgot how to feel. She desired amnesia so that all this suffering could fade away, fade and allow memories of laughter to soothe her, to restore peace in her life.
He wasn't an alcoholic, well not exactly. He was addicted to cheap stunts that boosted his ego at the expense of my own. Good people feel good when they lift others up, poisonous people feel good when they put others down. Good people get addicted to doing good. Poisonous people get addicted to causing the hurt. He'd talk me into helping him sweetly, as if he had some work to be done. He'd ask me to sing, a vulnerable thing to do, then say my voice was too hoarse and not up to his standards. I wish I'd stood up for myself, yet when you are being so emotionally drained by another person it's harder to do than it would appear. I never mustered enough courage to speak to his face, only calling him a lot of names in my thoughts. I would release the pent-up energy on pen and paper. Once, in youthful innocence, I believed that my situation would change, but with the passage of time, it was my attitude that changed. I lost faith in him. I realised that I would be happier if he'd leave me alone, if I could gain the space to grow into being the kind of positive person I can be proud of, a person who brings others emotional support instead of pain.