Below are three shorts images that came to me throughout different times, while passing through my usual daily routines. None are directly related to me, but are of an imaginative nature. Enjoy.
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Title: Language Barrier
Originally Written: 8/19/2013
Neither spoke very good English. She imagined, as she observed them, that they were both foreign exchange students. Concocting an elaborate tale of struggle and tearful seperations, of how both left their respective homes and countries in the hopes of obtaining that coveted American education and this ensuring brighter futures for themselves. Nevertheless, the mutual attraction was evident in their wide eyes, faint blushes, and shy giggles. Language barriers were nothing for these two, not when the heart did all the necessary communicating.
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Wrote this after observing the innocent and sweet flirtations of a young man and woman on the train.
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Title: The End Result
Originally Written: 8/19/2013
Crass.
Wanton.
But not quite rude. She is obviously a woman scorned and makes no effort to hide her wounds. She wears her scars openly, like badges of honor, and when she looks at you there is only the empty abyss of indifference in her eyes. Some would say she is quite un-fixable.
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No explanation for this one.
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Originally Written: 8/15/2013
The seedy, understated glamour of the bar scene. The image of the tragic, love-struck heroine of the lounge singer. Beautiful, alluring, tempting, but eyes always a little half closed, as if she refuses to wake up from dreaming. The purple mist of billowy smoke is her wedding veil, her hubby is the night itself. Her heavy lidded eyes always hold a mingling of sultriness and lethargy, a combining of sensuality and disillusionment. She glances at the men who cat-call to her, and there seems to be a look of constant disappointment in her black lined eyes. As if the world is nothing but one long, consistent let down. She sighs deeply as the piano player prepares for the next set, and the smoke swirls in spirals around her. Her full, garnet lips making a perfect "O," with only a gleam of white peaking past the dip of her top lip.
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While listening to Lana Del Rey this image came to me. So, I wrote it down.
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We have talked before about you writing a book. What about writing a book of short stories? You create such a picture with your words so easily, it would be glorious.
ReplyDeleteYou are probably on to something.
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