Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

A tree stands unassuming, overlooking silently with a calm and serene expression, hands loose by its sides. A dog is sunbathing in the grass, asleep. Flowers look on and the blades of grass cut the breeze into lazy angular shadows and sound. The light haze blurs the horizon and the dog does not stir. A balloon sails past high with its long string hanging in regret. The thought that somewhere a hand is missing its balloon, and still the dog does not stir. Broken stained-glass shapes of birds punctuate the clouds who say nothing as they roll to hold the balloon – an exciting invasion of red. The balloon's string runs through the fingers of the clouds with just the faintest of smiles. The dog does not stir. The grey shape of a cloud on the grass passes over the top of the dog, cutting the sun for a second and the dog rolls over, prostrate, in ignorant worship of grass and tree and sun.

really nice short story.

"The grey shape of a cloud on the grass passes over the top of the dog, cutting the sun for a second and the dog rolls over, prostrate, in ignorant worship of grass and tree and sun."

i can dig that ignorant worship. nice ending that really begins another story .

welcome back, stranger.

beautiful writing

and this

The thought that somewhere a hand is missing its balloon, and still the dog does not stir.

Thank you to the pair of you.

Hi, Marjeanne, long time...

hope you're well.

hallo mr. red pants. long time indeed. ten toes, ten fingers...yep, i'm good

last time we spoke you said something about a writing course...

well... no writing course but I did an InDesign course instead (my work made me) and I'm on the waiting list for a photography course. the classes beginning in april are currently full so it looks likely that it'll be September before I can do that.

I saw a fox sitting by the train tracks tonight on my way home from work. he was scratching his ear. it made me smile.