not-quite Journaling, 5
Language is magic
we feel in words.
1/20/2021: It’s true. I believe it in my heart and feel it in my bones (which is why I love writing and reading and all things that come with words in them). What about you?
in all the phases
1/25/2021: I’m always delighted by how beautiful a flower is from
budding to wilting. I especially love how the scent grows more complex with
time. Have you noticed? If not, you should try it one of these days (then
tell me about it). My amaryllis buds tend to smell of flowery grass (to
me), the mature flowers spark the scent of sunlight, and when the blooms
start to wilt (I swear) they smell like wine. I wonder if this is some
kind of selective synesthesia—if I’m not smelling the scents but the colors.
What do amaryllis flowers smell like to you?
Love can be a monster,
1/26/2021: I was asked for a blackout poem that could be the first line
of a love story or a tale of psychological horror. This is what I came up with.
I’m going to expand the piece into a full-length poem, story, or a combination
of both. Would you like to help? If your answer is yes, leave me a comment with
a line or a sentence, which you think would fit the expanded piece. I will do
my best to include every serious contribution. The gathering of sentences/lines
will remain open until mid-February.
for Poets and Storytellers United (Writers’ Pantry #55: Break Dance!).