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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

I opened a window.


Quincunx

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Faint, dropping and rising with the puffs of wind, comes the piping of a tin whistle. It's even more erratic than the relatively light winds of the day would justify. I wonder if someone is practicing trills and melodies instead of listening to a playback. There's an unobtrusive but continuous rush of cars, so far distant that I can't point to the visible motorway and blame it. The air smells like incipient rain, but here it nearly always does, with a hint of concrete construction dust. The world is not idyllic but it is not at war with itself. What is the world like outside your window?

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My friend broods and paces restlessly, mulling bits of information and examining them like the raven he is. There's not enough to make a whole, but he can't leave the shiny pieces of his life alone. Outside, the wind rustles through the dying leaves idly, playfully testing each one to determine if it is its destiny to fall yet. Even the green leaves sway as it teases with promises of their future. Occasionally a child's shout drifts in, exclaim joys of discovery, a snail or worm, the joy of kicking leaves or just running to become one with the wind, heart pounding life pumping happiness.

The start of a diesel engine and the raven flies away.

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It's a bit cold, and very brown (except for the evergreen in the front yard that I now notice is dead center with my window). The wind is blowing gently, bringing that refreshing cold shock of ice water after a hot bath.

 

There's almost no noise, which used to be typical, but now it's rare not to hear painfully poppy (yet catchy) R&B playing from the house facing us as he works on his engine, or washes his car, a car goign by every hour, random kids either laughing or talking loudly as they walk down the street, the regular speedfreaks taking advantage of our straightaway street that has no stop signs or lights...

 

I keep half hoping those guys hit a car going 75 miles an hour- especially when they're racing their ATVs in a SUBURB.

 

I haven't heard the other neighbor across the street's outdoor phone in awhile, come to think of it. It's one of those wring setups from years and years ago, before we had portables and cells that allowed you to work in the yard, or on the car, and still hear the phone ring. It's even a rotary phone, so it even has that half nostalgic reassurance of childhood noise that is slowly being swallowed by Keanu Reeves in The Matrix.

 

The leaves move in waves beyond the other side of the street, then I hear their dry rustle Fall Kung Fu cinema. Heh.

 

There's car guy! He's taking out his trash. His wife's name is Brenda, but I still only know him as "car guy".

 

The sky's that cozy gray that makes me think of the end of the world approaching, a la The Neverending Story when I'm depressed, and of of down quilts, hot choclate with half-melted tiny marshmallows, and old movies when I'm happy.

 

Mostly, though, it's very brown out there.

 

Hey- three cars now! Rush hour...

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out my window(though I dare only peek through the heavy curtain, in the state of undress I am currently in), someone is setting off fireworks, bright tinny popopopps of green and white and blue, sprinkled against the dark reddish-brown of a city night sky. Below that, cars are rushing to and fro frantically getting in position for the battles tomorrow...for the day after Thanksgiving is the day of days, when mother turns against daughter turns against grandmother, sister against sister, father against son, in the frenzy of early christmas-gift sales...but I digress.

Other than that, the streets are empty--those not rushign around in cars are eating with family, so a lot of houses' windows are dark, and a few are extra bright. No-one walks out on the sidewalks below. The street-lights tint everythign an ugly shade of browny-orange...and the wind is bitter cold...

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Blue sky and setting sun greets my eyes, cutting them deeply to tears for even the softening light is too bright. I let the gentle breeze drift across the umbrellas and stands of my trade, the small rings of paladium glisten gently under the watchful eye of my lens. The kiss of fresh air makes me cough, it is colder than the airconditioned office of my days, and chilling in the spring evening as it tries to awaken my heart to enjoy it....

 

Sunset will sparkle tonight, the clouds are just right, but i stay here, my muse is hiding from me, and i have no wish to chase fairies by the light of a dawning night.

 

Camera clicks and the outside deminishes to shadows under the twin flashes of xenon tubes and reflectors channel my thoughs back to the task at hand, not long, maybe i find my muse again soon, maybe one day i shall see her eyes again.

 

The diamonds wink the agreement at me through my watching lens.

 

Click.

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Blue sky and setting sun greets my eyes, cutting them deeply to tears for even the softening light is too bright. I let the gentle breeze drift across the umbrellas and stands of my trade, the small rings of paladium glisten gently under the watchful eye of my lens. The kiss of fresh air makes me cough, it is colder than the airconditioned office of my days, and chilling in the spring evening as it tries to awaken my heart to enjoy it....

 

Sunset will sparkle tonight, the clouds are just right, but i stay here, my muse is hiding from me, and i have no wish to chase fairies by the light of a dawning night.

 

Camera clicks and the outside deminishes to shadows under the twin flashes of xenon tubes and reflectors channel my thoughs back to the task at hand, not long, maybe i find my muse again soon, maybe one day i shall see her eyes again.

 

The diamonds wink the agreement at me through my watching lens.

 

Click.

Aha..I have stolen your muse! ;) j/k

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