felt like playing with words.

He strolls through his garden, taking care to gaze at each and every fruit, tree, and plant. The morning dew hangs in the air, giving off a kind of suspension in time, a mysterious feeling that something else hangs in its mist. Gently, carefully even, down a worn but kempt path he walks, each step accompanied by a small marvel and intrigue over a tiny, budding flower, or a bite of a ripe and juicy fruit. "Mmm," he nods, as the taste of a peach draws a crooked smile on his face.

He veers off path onto a damp meadow. By now, the dew has settled on the surface of the grass. Still surveying his surroundings in admiration, he slowly strolls towards a patch of land patterned with dirt, which rolls on the land in waves, each depression holding life. Inquisitively, he lowers himself to scoop out a small, bright-red tomato nestled in its vine. Dusting and cleaning it off with his hands, he brings it to his mouth. His brows furrow at first, and quickly jump in curiosity at the sudden burst of flavor, a mix of sweet and sour. He smiles and nods, but concludes that it will take some getting used to before he likes this one.

The day continues and his exploration takes a pause. He sits down on the roots of a tall, sturdy tree standing on land's edge. He inspects it, his eyes traveling through its ridges and his hands contemplating its pulse. Its branches spread out, stretching towards the heavens, and its roots consume water from the river and nutrients from the soil. Thankful for its shade, he leans against its smooth trunk. After a brief moment, he takes a cue from the tree, bending towards the river to drink some of its water. He nods again, and stands.

A little more trekking and exploring, and the light begins to fade as he decides his day's excursion has come to an end. He takes one last look and beholds the scenery before him. He remembers the sights, the tastes, the scents of the day and, his heart full, nods one last time.

He decides that it is good, and wraps up the third day, the earth's last without the sun.

unasleeep

eeep!

Just felt like writing. I don't have anything going on, but sometimes I start to write and thoughts I never knew I had start flowing out. Maybe they're thoughts I never did have...just conceived and born upon whim. (regarding last post.)

It's amazing, the things you gain by watching dramas. I mention this because of one thing I thought was worth noting from a drama...hahaha. You can contain the whole sky in those three wee letters: s, k, y. Or ㅎㅏㄴㅡㄹ. Or whatever other language. You know and understand the fluidity and liquidity of hydrogen oxide by its more identifiable string of w, a, t, e, r.

I'm just admiring the power of language and words and communication. It's something I've wanted to write about but forgot to. Anyway, this ain't enough but it's already too late for me to think even more deeply into and I'm pretty tired so I'll maybe be back to do this justice. Somehow.

balderdash

Sometimes without reason I just want to write even though there is nothing in particular to write about I just have this weird urge to write write write as if something mattered though there is nothing in particular that really does matter As I write this I am stalling a lot because even this topic about being topic less is pretty hard to write about How much harder it is to write without having a topic

Sometimes without reason I just want to let go even though there is nothing in particular to let go of There is nothing no one I am holding on to at the moment but why do I feel the need to let go I wish I were more certain of myself and more confident in myself Maybe it is because I do not trust in myself that I am trying to let go Since I can not trust in myself to let go maybe letting go first will allow me to trust in myself What am I so fearful of What if life were like this no periods commas punctuation marks just letting go letting on Should going with the flow be this un flowy and rigid I guess in life there is no such thing as a smooth ride Life is always going to have its fair actually unfair share of bumps and storms and mountains and bullies

____
mmhm. Without its punctuations, life'll definitely be nonsensicality at its worst.