Ayshela Posted October 12, 2003 Report Posted October 12, 2003 Written after my last trip back "home", back to Eastern Washington. My best friend always hated that area and could never understand what i love so much about it. This is my attempt to explain. Coming to the Flatlands Towering columns of green and brown huddled close in suffocating ranks, marching across the hills and mountains of zero visibility. Moss-laden, guarding pungent banks of fallen needles, clinging to life-giving, stagnant dampness. Slowly, begrudgingly, they yield to clear, dry vistas. Rolling hills of dusky sage and lavender. Formed by upheavals and worn by the passage of wind and time to a gentle, sensual curve. Each hill flows down across its width to a passage of land as flat as the face of time itself, worn to a smooth finish, hammered to a seemingly featureless expanse. Roadways pass through channels chiseled from the hardened ground, exposing to the startled view of passers-by a wealth of sage and golden grasses clinging to a gentle dusting of earth. Bowing their heads and waving in the ever-present breezes, they glint with a thousand shades of gleaming gold. Breathe gently, savour the tang of grey-green sage turned lavender at dusk. Taste the gentle golden breath of endless fields of wheat. Hear the breezes whistling through your flying hair and whispering their tales of endless time. Touch the earth and touch eternity.
Regel Posted October 12, 2003 Report Posted October 12, 2003 I viewed this one and had to go away without comment. Too easy to say beautiful and run. I was looking at the picture you had painted on the canvas in my mind and was considering what to say about it. The smells your descriptions conjured as well as the natural landscape left me speechless.Then in the second paragraph the words suddenly turned erotic. Rolling hills of dusky sage and lavender. Formed by upheavals and worn by the passage of wind and time to a gentle, sensual curve. Each hill flows down across its width to a passage of land as flat as the face of time itself, worn to a smooth finish, hammered to a seemingly featureless expanse. Is it me or did it suddenly get warm in here?
Ayshela Posted October 12, 2003 Author Report Posted October 12, 2003 feel free to adjust your collar as necessary
Peredhil Posted October 12, 2003 Report Posted October 12, 2003 I know those lands, and this evokes the beauty of them very well. Perhaps he's personalizing the lands, and letting them represent the wrongs which in his mind you've endured. Which is a shame, because the land itself is just as beautiful as you've described. You've turned out to have a lot of inner beauty too - which is reflected in this your creation.
Ayshela Posted October 13, 2003 Author Report Posted October 13, 2003 mmm no disservice done, actually. There is definitely a sensual, sensous aspect to the weathered curves, tumbling water and flowing oceans of wheat. They're carved, molded and shaped by wind, weather and time, as surely as the master sculptor shapes and molds a statue glorifying the beauty of the human body. That the sculpted scene glorifies the beauty of this planetary body we inhabit makes it no less real, nor less aesthetically appealing. i was simply surprised that Regel detected that this had been written with that undercurrent of thought.
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