Rikka
04-06-2009, 02:54 AM
So a few days ago i had a spark of random inspiration. I don't write at all, actually, which surprised me the most. I can now say, though, that i understand the anxious feeling of showing your writing to other people. Be gentle, please and thanks.:embarassed:
It wasn't as if she never gave it any thought.
I sometimes wonder about the flickering lights outside of my window. Like small colourful bubbles filled with the banter of the streets below, all warm and wavy. My mind goes silent as i press my hands and nose up against the large cool windows. My room is small and cozy, suffocating and still. The light from outside illuminates all the lonely objects lying about the floor in a chaotic mess. The bathroom door is open, comforting me with it's soft orange light as the soapy smells from the tub waft out. I feel like I'm slipping into a dense sea of lights and sounds, my senses completely captivated. Everything slowly dims, and the sounds fade away, and sleep embraces my sore shoulders and knees.
I wake up to the honking of horns and passing cars, the sound of slush spraying the streets reverberates in my ears. Lying perfectly still and staring at the ceiling, i already come to the conclusion that today is going to be a bad day.
"Hello there, Albert" I murmur, ruffling the top of my feline friend's head. Forcing my slovenly self out of bed, i make some toast and tea. Mornings make me more pensive that I'd like to be, but I always snap back to reality in time to catch my train, so i guess it's alright. I deliberate on what to wear; the cold muddy mess outside worries me. I finally come to the conclusion that a pretty floral dress and some thick black pantyhose would be suitable. I quickly don my warm pea coat and scarf, and slip into my large, dirty boots. "See you, buddy" I holler at Albert, who stares back impassively.
The November sky is a bright overcast Grey, which would put most folks in a terrible mood, but i love the rain and snow and proceed to muck about in the sleet. Promptly getting on the train, I plop into a seat that appears to be the most secluded. The train hums in time with the occasional clacking of the tracks below, and everyone sways this way and that. Suddenly the hordes of people moving in sync with each other reminds me of an ocean floor covered with sea anemones, strangely calm and peaceful in the early morning hustle and bustle.
It wasn't as if she never gave it any thought.
I sometimes wonder about the flickering lights outside of my window. Like small colourful bubbles filled with the banter of the streets below, all warm and wavy. My mind goes silent as i press my hands and nose up against the large cool windows. My room is small and cozy, suffocating and still. The light from outside illuminates all the lonely objects lying about the floor in a chaotic mess. The bathroom door is open, comforting me with it's soft orange light as the soapy smells from the tub waft out. I feel like I'm slipping into a dense sea of lights and sounds, my senses completely captivated. Everything slowly dims, and the sounds fade away, and sleep embraces my sore shoulders and knees.
I wake up to the honking of horns and passing cars, the sound of slush spraying the streets reverberates in my ears. Lying perfectly still and staring at the ceiling, i already come to the conclusion that today is going to be a bad day.
"Hello there, Albert" I murmur, ruffling the top of my feline friend's head. Forcing my slovenly self out of bed, i make some toast and tea. Mornings make me more pensive that I'd like to be, but I always snap back to reality in time to catch my train, so i guess it's alright. I deliberate on what to wear; the cold muddy mess outside worries me. I finally come to the conclusion that a pretty floral dress and some thick black pantyhose would be suitable. I quickly don my warm pea coat and scarf, and slip into my large, dirty boots. "See you, buddy" I holler at Albert, who stares back impassively.
The November sky is a bright overcast Grey, which would put most folks in a terrible mood, but i love the rain and snow and proceed to muck about in the sleet. Promptly getting on the train, I plop into a seat that appears to be the most secluded. The train hums in time with the occasional clacking of the tracks below, and everyone sways this way and that. Suddenly the hordes of people moving in sync with each other reminds me of an ocean floor covered with sea anemones, strangely calm and peaceful in the early morning hustle and bustle.