roughly seven years ago...
[Let this picture inspire you. - Wednesday 01/12/11]
It's exactly the kind of weather a person doesn't want to be out in. It's dark, dreary and the light dusting of snow just makes everything depressing. Still, as with every day before, she goes outside - today, with gloves and a scarf, but no jacket - and heads for the hill.
She used to stop at the lone tree, to take a breath and convince herself she had to crest the hill. The more she passed the tree, the easier it was to keep moving forward, almost to the point where she forgets the tree is there. She used to wonder if that made her cold, unfeeling.
She's stopped seeing the bigger picture - she couldn't bear to look at what was in front of her - and, now, only sees the thing right in front of her. There isn't much to look at, anyway; the land never really came back. Maybe it knows that this is no place for beauty...
How can a cemetery full of children ever be beautiful?
It's exactly the kind of weather a person doesn't want to be out in. It's dark, dreary and the light dusting of snow just makes everything depressing. Still, as with every day before, she goes outside - today, with gloves and a scarf, but no jacket - and heads for the hill.
She used to stop at the lone tree, to take a breath and convince herself she had to crest the hill. The more she passed the tree, the easier it was to keep moving forward, almost to the point where she forgets the tree is there. She used to wonder if that made her cold, unfeeling.
She's stopped seeing the bigger picture - she couldn't bear to look at what was in front of her - and, now, only sees the thing right in front of her. There isn't much to look at, anyway; the land never really came back. Maybe it knows that this is no place for beauty...
How can a cemetery full of children ever be beautiful?