she

sometimes you have to #wonder about the #rain. it was one of those times today. i #wondered about the #rain as i lay there on the grass. we always think of #rain in england as a cold, miserable experience, wind blowing it under umbrellas as we gather together outside tube stations and under bus stops. but this is not that #rain. how can the same #water falling from the same #clouds be so different in here? there is no wall, no border. we are still in england. nothing has changed. everything is different. it is warm, a bath that doesn’t #simply surround but floats in the breathless air and sticks to what can only be called #clouds of breath that can’t be seen but can be felt as the swirl around us. i am certain that i will be soaked just as thoroughly by this #rain as i would by the #water that breaks umbrellas and earns the curses of commuters but there is no frustration, no annoyance here. i feel enjoyment in a way that #water in the #sky should never in my mind be capable of creating.

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misaligned

jumping from her chair as she heard the grating sound of metal upon metal, angela reached the window of her cottage on the south downs in time to see a vision that had only appeared possible as a theory in her mind, not something to happen in real life. there was perhaps one #train a day this far out from civilization, two at the most but never running at even similar times. the collision between two, one obviously a passenger #train and the other a flaming mess of burning liquid, was something that she could not understand, believing her eyes or not. running through the door into the snow hanging limp in the air, she called out to her sister without even thinking that she had left for the weekend and could certainly not hear her from her hostel in amsterdam. angela pounded one step after another in the direction of the flames, #fire pouring high into the darkening sky. how could this have happened? there is not another cottage for #miles. by the time anyone else sees the #smoke or expects the #trains to arrive, it will be too late for the passengers.

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#timewrite #alpha

#Timewrite prompts are to be written as ten-minute exercises as either two half-page prompts or one full-page prompt to stimulate longer writing and #free your writing from the constraints of #structure and #dogma. Continue Reading…

a thousand words or more

a thousand words or more.

the politics of a photography of absence.

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clicking conception

clicking conception.

[ or ]

digital rebirth of the artist.

 

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the camera inside

the camera inside.

[ or ]

from tool to artist.

 

The Camera Inside.

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hearing through new eyes

hearing through new eyes.

[ or ]

image as humanity’s defining language.

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blatant muse

so you want to learn how to write…

really?

i mean, really?

no problem. trust me.

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