Literature entry 2
Literature entry 2
The entry which follows, is basically the beginning of the exercise we began in class. We read Hemingways’ piece, Hills Like White Elephants and a piece by Virginia Woolfe, Kew Gardens.
Both writers are very different in their styles. Hemingway creates a conversation between two people and not a lot of information. The first time I read it I wasn’t sure if maybe I had missed something and to be honest with you, the only thing that stuck in my mind were the “hills”. For me the hills symbolised something big that needs to be climbed over. A problem of some sort that needs to be solved. Something that is so rooted into the ground it will take a great deal of hard work, both physical and emotional but mainly emotional to uproot. A problem so deep and heavy that the elephants mentioned emphasize the weight and burden one is carrying on their shoulders or, deep within their soul.
Woolfe on the other hand, painted a picture for me. A colourful one. One with detail, allowing my mind to just drift into the piece. I could feel everything she was saying and I could see it too. My mind didn’t have to think too hard to understand what was going on. (pause)
Now that I think about it, although at the time I preferred Kew Gardens, I actually don’t remember a thing about it, where as Hills Like White Elephants, irritates me because I don’t really know what’s going on between the two characters, (except what we said in class) and I can’t stop thinking about it.
Maybe what is left unsaid, is what actually gets remembered. Maybe Hemingway had issues of his own and therefore wants to play with our minds. Whatever it is, he attracts discussion and has his way in entering our minds. It’s almost been a week and he is still in mine.
The creative exercise we were given in class gave me a chance to try out a little Virginia Woolfe style. Although it’s not very good, it is colourful.
The Rays of the Sun.
The rays of the sun shoot through the space around me, invisibly targeting anything that comes in its way, making each one of us its victim.
The tingling sensation on my back is almost too good to resist. Its warmth, hugging me in such a comforting way, almost like a true friend. I close my eyes, and my senses are heightened. I hear the twitter of the birds in the distance, the wind swooshing through the trees, the branches and leaves. A soft rustling is heard…rustle, rustle, rustle. You can hear the life.
I breathe in the freshness around me. How quiet the streets are at this hour. Almost like a soothing lullaby. - Nafsika Divis