Monday, January 27, 2014
Ink in her veins
Reading a writing inspirations book and drinking peachy green tea = bliss.
I have discovered that jotting down things I see around me- writing simply about life, the beat, the colors, the ebb and flow of humanity- gives me a new perspective. Since I have done it for years, it comes naturally. The notes on my iPhone mostly consist of bits of colorful scenes, overheard conversations, fragments of memories.
Writing doesn't have to be polished or grammatically correct to live, to create vivid pictures, to convey the rawest of feelings. In looking around and spotting things to write about, I have gotten better at seeing beauty in seemingly ugly things; spotting glimpses of light in the dark. I look back at my scribbles, and I smile.
I was in the doctor's office, waiting for someone.
A lot of other people waited too. A little boy colored wildly on a clipboard, the neon highlighters making a scratching sound in the quiet. He was waiting for his mom.
A man came in and leaned over the little artist. The boy looked up. "Hey Daddy," he said. "How'd you get in here?"
The man smiled. "I'm magic," he whispered. The boy stared incredulously. "Why are you magic?" The man shrugged. "I was born that way."
Posted by Celia