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scrapbook

by maru

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100×100

place

photo: Douglas M. MacIlroy

Art at the corner, that crosses time to reach present and virtual form. Timeless candlelight, warm as the dreams, dreams of foreign lands, of unknown friends. Creating a space for creation. Is that smell tea? Is that smell ink? It also smells of candle-wax, warm candle-wax. Warmth that reaches inside. Sensation creating space for more sensations, and feelings creating space for more feelings… inner space to be filled and refilled. Just the low sound of the burning wick and the steady heart. Peaceful dreams, quiet enthusiasm. Comfort at that place in the heart.

 

Friday Fictioneers  encourages people to write by prompting an image to let imagination work.  Once a week, an opportunity to share words and comments.

about time

© Jennifer Pendergast

 

About time
to turn over the page
-walking along the cool, empty corridors-
time to leave the place
-carrying just the worn out briefcase-
keeping the memories and lessons
not always sweet, generally useful
generally
there was no meaning in certain things
“not yet” would have said Grandma
“one day you will understand”
wise Grandma, present after so much time
-going down the stairs-
after 30 years of teaching
goodbyes were uncomfortably brief
-stepping outside to the warm embrace of the sun-
time for a change
-smiling to the new life ahead-
time for a new challenge
about time

 

 

Friday Fictioneers  encourages people to write by prompting an image to let imagination work.  Once a week, an opportunity to share words and comments.

at her own pace

© Erin Leary

It was her first walk alone after the accident. Almost guilty to leave the others behind with their undeniable but sometimes suffocating love, she made her way down the path slowly, painfully so. The calm and solitary landscape greeted her with a cold breeze and a layer of mist playing over its earth tones. She kept near the fence, just to have something to hold on to, every step firmer than the previous one, her breath deeper and slower, easier. The fear receded. She could enjoy being back there… at her own pace.

 

 

Friday Fictioneers  encourages people to write by prompting an image to let imagination work.  Once a week, an opportunity to share words and comments.

 

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