Is it thought provoking to be quiet?
When I’m quiet it doesn’t mean I have nothing to add,
I take time to contemplate, speculate and recreate.
Rather than react without a moment to hesitate.
Look at me, not past me.
What do you see?
I see a human with ambition and pride.
Is that remarkable?
Or is it only remarkable to be remarkable?
I’m not a visionary,
Which helps me empathise with everybody.
Fully inclusive. Kind.
Let’s be human.
Pointless short short stories:
A glob of mist adhered to the mountain side, the trees become more opaque with depth. I am truly secluded, the stereoscope is a craving yet lonesome. I can see about 6 miles, this is France.
Without my beard I'm a round faced weirdo.
Birds excitedly talking amongst themselves, never acknowledging my presence within their conversing. Debris and pine needles littered the once white snow. Trees on the incline scattered brown and green within the metropolis of timber.
vast summits flecked with snow, the light reflecting off what snow remained white. Huge patches of dirt is now visible, the river a chorus after lying dormant for many months.
A u-shaped tree appears in the distance,
I reach the scene and admire the anomaly.
The trunk split in two which appears to be a u.
Light brown bark,
I study every mark,
which reveals a small carved face,
one of which I’ve seen many times.
"My friend how I’ve missed you.
Why and how do you present yourself to me now?"
"I wish to say goodbye as I couldn’t last time,
I was unwell.
I have not forgotten you,
nor will I soon.
You’ve influenced my life
and I will bloom,
as you can know It's spring."
snow unzipped in large chunks revealing sheets of grey rock and grass. consuming and sculpting the landscape using it’s crumpling avoirdupois. This avalanche created no sound to my knowledge, I must have missed the crescendo.
Looking upwards from my old wooden chair, I stared out of a small pair of windows, there were six small pains of glass the dimensions of which must have been six centre meters squared. There was an average sized Christmas bauble hanging directly from the centre of the beam directly in front of the minute window.. God knows why it was there, it had been there each time I had visited. I then begun to look around this low lit room that was absent of light purely because of the tiny window. All the shelves rammed full of a rather unusual filing system, one created by the mind or character that had no sense of order. The yellow and red files were faded and well worn, dusty and completely irrelevant. To my surprise a rather magnificent pheasant that seemed to have been placed on the wall outside caught my full attention. Now ignoring the sound of the lady sitting beside me, I sit gazing out of the window directly opposite.