It's all in the expression.
"So, I couldn't help noticing the boxes on the landing. You packing up some stuff?" Jim asked as they walked across fields away from the cottage. Jennifer walked in silence for a moment.
(If you missed part 2 it is because I posted it on the end of the first part instead of a separate post. Oops.) There were seagulls. The sound of seagulls.
Driving into Belfast this morning the rising sun rose deep yellow from the hills across the lough. The sky above looked like an upside down blanket of snow, cloud folds lit by the sunlight.
So much to do, and so little to stop me. Just cold water, cold enough to lie inches deep and solid white. The engine whines and the tyre spins like a frantic double dip economy, gaining no purchase.
Just a tick. Really quick. The countdown's longer than the clock hand flick. One year to another. Closer than a twin brother. A second makes the difference.
The ghost of a christmas present lies scattered on the floor. A spilled splash of sparkling wrap like an echo of the smile which it had brought.
The world ended today Did you notice. How black the sky, How loud the cry, Didn't you notice. The moment she left I noticed The torn heart, All ripped apart I noticed.
A post about ranking inspires me to ask, "is productivity more valuable than creativity?" A hundred opusses or articles a month better than one hot story which mangles your mind and lifts your pulse.
In the far country of Falfotratlia there is no Christmas. The government of Falfotratlia which meets in the Great Rotund in the city of Smalisbad, would like to introduce Christmas.
Get to it. To writing as fast as you can. Get those thoughts down. Order them. Use them. Have them spill like a river from your soul.
It was in the news. He is 5 and he saw. His face all frowned, "all those children killed?" "Yes, look, just come away from that." But it got inside.
A circle of hands and prayers enveloped a city hall today.
The Belfast Heart It was a cool sunny October morning in Belfast. A walk along from York Street to Nero's Cafe in the centre proved energising.
The Pretty Thief now has an update..
an elephant and a kangaroo. burum burum. an elephant and a kangaroo. burum burum. an elephant and a kangaroo. got together and started a zoo. but no one. no one. no one wanted to come.
A chat with my daughter can be such a hoot Wondering if an elephant Could use his trunk as a flute. But he couldn't I tell her, there's just no way.
One of the interesting things about Jim was his love of beauty. In anything. In anyone. A love not of simple beauty alone, for the pretty face or fine art are easy to appreciate.
Wizardly Bill sang a song in his head, A song he had heard while asleep in his bed. He had been dreaming one of those magical dreams, Where nothing quite ever is just what it seems.