To reduce an ancient times master by the ignorances that were common of the time, yet not celebrate their achievements and advancements by creative leaps of the heart and machinery of thought, is cheap. It is knocking beer cans off a fence with your fist when they took the shot from a mile out with some old fashioned gun. So celebrate their wisdom, forgive their ignorance, feel gratitude for the answers which they handed to you on a platter, and strive to take your own shot into that far horizon.
Imagination is painful and tiresome. The ability to create your own world or scenarios which will never happen; can make you fell like collapsing to the ground. The ability to make yourself so happy only to snapped out of you trance by the slightest movement. The pain you can cause yourself just by reminiscing. Your imagination has the ability to mess with your flashbacks making them feel even more horrendous then the true story. So, if you could switch it off. Would you?
Avery whispers into the breeze, her eyelids fluttering closed as she breathes in the briny aroma. Scrunching her toes, she feels the softness of the sand, still damp from the retreating tide. She wiggles as a shiver cascades down her spine and her eyes burst open.The sand blurs out in a blissful trance, the shore fading into liquid gold, vivid in the brilliant light. Her pale lips curve upward.
Avery bestows her gaze to the far off horizon, the flaring hues of the sun melting into the sky and ocean like a divine painting. The forever stretching sea is masked with an apricot colour, that beautiful umber flowing into turquoise. Through narrowed eyes she watches as each wave overlaps one another, sending the white bubbling crests descending, masking the shore with the transparent fading water.
There is something about a finishing line; I could never imagine stopping before it arrived in view, then I could never imagine not stopping once it was passed.
The most ordinary of objects held fascination for Clara. As with the people in her life, she found immense joy in the humble splendours most raced past in their search for something more "shiny."
That morning, the woods were filled with an ominous brittle silence. There was a shriek from the trees that Henry said was a branch twisting under the sheer weight of ice. I had opened the curtain to the blue dawn, but I hastily closed it against the cold diffusing across the window glass. In our unheated room, our breath was vapor, and the floorboards cold to the pads of our feet. Henry's nose was red, and the tip of mine was numb.
It can be hard sometimes. Now and then we will choose the wrong way, a bit like moving against the grain.
We can ruin the wood we call life.
This can be hard to take back, since the damage has already been done.
It will scar you for a while, the mistakes we make but eventually it will fade into the past.
A simple decision can ruin our lives, but only you can choose whether to hold on to the past pain or let it go.
That day, digging in the pocket of my green coat, there was two small items. One was a puzzle piece of blue sky and white-puffed cloud. The second was a "2p," a two pence piece. I think a part of me wanted to go into that clear blue sky and watch it expand to the far horizons, holding onto that 2p for double luck.
He sighed and looked at her with those blue eyes touched by storm clouds. She had never seen any emotion in them other than contempt. But now they embraced the wind. A brief gust before returning to a calm sea.
I am in love with your soul not your body. Your temperament is what lures me into you. Your deep soothing voice is what I crave for and your warmth is what I covet. When you smile at me it seems as if the whole world is mine. When our eyes exchange looks it feels as if everything has paused and belongs right in its place. Your mesmerising oceanic eyes have locked themselves in my mind and only thoughts about you mingle in my head. These feeling I have for you are stronger than just admiration, I think I am falling for you
hard, like the falling of stars.
In the pandemic the food giants donated their profits into a mobile food bank, one that went to the poorest districts and gave food to the needy.
Once a child can read and do the basics, homeschool becomes very different from school. Whereas the classroom teacher is more akin to a bus driver; homeschool is more akin to giving the kids the key to their own car and being there when they ask for directions or help. And beyond that, it's a more relaxed pace of living with a lot more laughs.