Thursday, February 13, 2020

Week in Seven Words #496

By the salty, polluted river, the grass is long and glossy. Purple flowers and soda cans nestle in it.

Worries are better dealt with outdoors. Not in the confines of a familiar room but in a wider space with water, trees, and people.

A caterpillar, small as a piece of macaroni, squiggles on my neck.

A woman is simultaneously playing the violin and hula hooping. Packing her talents together in the hopes of collecting more money in her violin case.

She keeps lowering her book with a sigh. The whoosh of the passing cars distracts her. I've written it off as background noise, like the wind. After she calls attention to it, I pause to listen, and I realize how much noise I accept as a given, just a part of life.

Toy sailboats find their balance on a sheet of dark water.

Rain comes down in thick continuous clots and spatters like white paint on the street.