Walking on the sidewalk, the crunch of rocksalt and ice. The world eggshell white, crackling under my feet. Brittle patches of sunlight that I crush with every step and a thin trickle of melt snaking its way into the gutter.
On the other side of the street an old man in uniform is clearing the hotel driveway, scraping his shovel back and forth across the road as if trying to read a text newly unearthed. The snow mixed with mud now, blotted with footprints, streaked with wheel dirt. Like the soiled wing of a runover bird.
If there is an epiphany here, it is as thin as our breath misting the air, as secret as this common prayer that murmurs from every lip. This morning the earth looks as if it had been dusted for fingerprints and found clean. And the glass of this building, catching the sun's eye, winks back at it.
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- Falstaff
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8 comments:
lovely imagery:)
also,everything you write seems tinged with a bit of desolation.is it a result of conscious effort on your part?
Echoing the previous comment; How about it, Falstaff? Let's have a nice cheerful piece from you for a change.
Not that I don't appreciate all the melancholy, but an occasional ray of sunshine would be a welcome change of pace. Surely there exists some little spark of joy in your life that could inspire your creativity.
Also, I didn't miss how the burst of bright green on your template lasted only a day before surrendering again to the greys and blacks.
Cleanse your soul and walk into the sunlight, I say! Happiest is he that doth not dwell on trivialities.
they say creativity is often linked with the bipolar disorder--so
looking forward to the joyous peice
though i shd say i have no complaints with your writing whatsoever..the sadness is evocative and chilling and times
We could all ofcourse have a nice little debate (pointless? ) on why Falstaff writes in that morbid tone of his. Is their a Freudian connection to it? Was he dropped as a baby? Heart break perhaps? Neo Schopenhauer? or his beautiful imagery takes on a morbid tone ( cos' well when one comes right down to it life is miserable for plenty of the species..if we are reading this not necessarily for us...)because that's what he "sees' and perceives? or is it most likely that he is dying to use the similes 'as innocent as a baby', as beatific as a baby' ( or whatever it is ) ? Is it possible because he has err.."drunk from the cup of life"? or is it more likely that the people who frequent this blog identify readily with the morbidness and the "existential angst" ( bear with the cliche! ) and would find something amiss if Falstaff writes about Daffodils...
or is it much ado about nothing? :D
p.s. ok ok I am just bored...come let us sing a song of joy..for mankind and it's glory....
@mt: But there are occasional rays of sunshine, he just crushes them under his boot. Hehehe.
Didn't like this template either. It feels too much like a compromise.
Nice one. Though, if I dig beneath the images, it probably doesn't say much :)
Sad? Desolate? I think this was more about quiet reflection than sadness.
not listening: I didn't think this one was particularly desolate. It isn't conscious effort - more a combination of general temperament and seasonal blues.
MT: To be honest, the burst of bright green was unintentional. My theory is that colours look different on IE and Firefox. Either that or my marginal colour blindness is at work again. I could have sworn the background to the earlier template was light gray when I set it, but then I opened it next morning in IE and it was this hideous green that I simply had to change.
usha: errr...Thanks. Though bipolar disorder is a little extreme, don't you think? ("No it's not!" - Night Falstaff)
TMWWT: All of the above? Plus the most important fact of all - it's Winter. The mornings ARE cold and gloomy and miserable. When Spring finally gets here, I might write about Daffodils, but until then the world is cold, cold.
(Also, Daffodils, shudder!)
revealed: Ah, well.
dufus: Yes, it's not meant to. Hence the whimsy tag. And I was going for quiet contemplation over gloom, though clearly old habits are not that easily abandoned.
all: give the guy a break, he's a grad student!
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