Summer and inspiration
Well, well, well. I hope that everyone is well. I have an extremely boring life, so any inspiration that I have is used to write. I swear I'm writing more than I'm reading, which is a pain in the butt as I want to finish rereading Warriors before school's back at the end of the month. Guess I should use less internet... fat chance.
One lot of fresh story is just below. If I write more of Terminal, I'll post it - later. But this is all the fresh stuff I've got right now, just below the cut.
I've seen it in pictures - a wondrous, pristine, almost ethereal place, where snow-white domes cut the turquoise, sparkling horizon of ocean. The people are relaxed, beautiful images of this hidden world. A language far from my own rolls from their tongues the way English falls from my own, but with a mystical grace that the erratic and confusing nature of English does not lend itself to. Cats drape across windowsills and arch their backs in the glorious sunlight; the very image of what a wondrous lifestyle this place gives its inhabitants.
I can't help but lay awake at night and wonder. I can almost feel the sun, so foreign from the one I know yet it is the very same being. It isn't the cruel burn of the Australian sun, but rather a soft light that is balmier than the pain that I am used to. I can hear my every footstep, pressing gently against the rugged cobblestones. My sandals are carelessly thrown on my feet, nearly flopping off. It is cooler that way.
An elegant tabby is stretched out in the Greek morning sunlight, tiny beams of light glittering in its fur. Part of me yearns to reach out and let it sniff my fingertips or rub against my hand. Another part of myself tells me to leave it be in this beautiful landscape.
But deep within me, I know the real reason that I can’t reach out and pet the beautiful feline. It is not there. I am walking through my own idealistic wonderland of Greece. The smells of exotic foods are just my mind fooling my nose; the warmth of the sun is merely my nerves playing with my mind. The sounds I hear are stolen from a life's worth of experiences and are interrupted by a car flying past or a horn or sirens of emergency vehicles. The only languidly relaxing cat is my own, lying in the window and dreaming of his own paradise.
I try not to get swept away by my own reality. I can see the crystal ocean, beckoning me with its calm waves. The ceiling is dark and familiar - a world away, but so close. I feel the sun beaming down with soft shafts of light from the sky. The blanket holds me and keeps me warm and... safe. The sound of a language so unfamiliar tugs at my ears; footsteps and donkeys’ hooves and carts create an unforgettable rhythm that is shattered by a car speeding past on a night street. My fantasy pulls me close but my reality breaks my heart as I see this beautiful land that is only perfect in my mind.
You may wonder why I lose myself in this perfect land of my mind. I do it to see what I want my life to be. If my best choice is to ream, then so be it, it keeps me sane in my imperfect reality of life, the made-up images of faraway places the key to the world of my mind.
One lot of fresh story is just below. If I write more of Terminal, I'll post it - later. But this is all the fresh stuff I've got right now, just below the cut.
I've seen it in pictures - a wondrous, pristine, almost ethereal place, where snow-white domes cut the turquoise, sparkling horizon of ocean. The people are relaxed, beautiful images of this hidden world. A language far from my own rolls from their tongues the way English falls from my own, but with a mystical grace that the erratic and confusing nature of English does not lend itself to. Cats drape across windowsills and arch their backs in the glorious sunlight; the very image of what a wondrous lifestyle this place gives its inhabitants.
I can't help but lay awake at night and wonder. I can almost feel the sun, so foreign from the one I know yet it is the very same being. It isn't the cruel burn of the Australian sun, but rather a soft light that is balmier than the pain that I am used to. I can hear my every footstep, pressing gently against the rugged cobblestones. My sandals are carelessly thrown on my feet, nearly flopping off. It is cooler that way.
An elegant tabby is stretched out in the Greek morning sunlight, tiny beams of light glittering in its fur. Part of me yearns to reach out and let it sniff my fingertips or rub against my hand. Another part of myself tells me to leave it be in this beautiful landscape.
But deep within me, I know the real reason that I can’t reach out and pet the beautiful feline. It is not there. I am walking through my own idealistic wonderland of Greece. The smells of exotic foods are just my mind fooling my nose; the warmth of the sun is merely my nerves playing with my mind. The sounds I hear are stolen from a life's worth of experiences and are interrupted by a car flying past or a horn or sirens of emergency vehicles. The only languidly relaxing cat is my own, lying in the window and dreaming of his own paradise.
I try not to get swept away by my own reality. I can see the crystal ocean, beckoning me with its calm waves. The ceiling is dark and familiar - a world away, but so close. I feel the sun beaming down with soft shafts of light from the sky. The blanket holds me and keeps me warm and... safe. The sound of a language so unfamiliar tugs at my ears; footsteps and donkeys’ hooves and carts create an unforgettable rhythm that is shattered by a car speeding past on a night street. My fantasy pulls me close but my reality breaks my heart as I see this beautiful land that is only perfect in my mind.
You may wonder why I lose myself in this perfect land of my mind. I do it to see what I want my life to be. If my best choice is to ream, then so be it, it keeps me sane in my imperfect reality of life, the made-up images of faraway places the key to the world of my mind.