Writing is supposed to become easier when it is done to express rather than impress. With the latter, to impress, the inner critic comes out, editing in real-time. With the former, to express, it comes out easily and unfiltered. I might have mentioned in a post many moons ago that to write unfiltered takes courage…because…
…and every day I pick up the quill, gingerly dip it into the slippery inkwell of inspiration to catch dripping thoughts before they fall away into the dark depths of the soul.
It is amazing that living things found on land resemble those living under the sea. And lest I forget, the mushrooms in the pic below, which resemble the blue bottles of the sea, also have a close resemblance to a non-organic human accessory, the umbrella – used on land – by people.
The tops of the mushrooms appear too heavy for their thin stems, looking ready to topple over at any time. Their milky whiteness invite a bold hand to touch them just to make sure that they are real. Their texture, soft and pliable to the eye may just belie hidden deception.
Nature is resilient and has had millennia of experience in protecting itself. It is not by chance then that uncanny resemblances that radiate across species has evolved over time ensuring the survival of even the most simple organisms.
Random image writing exercise prompt found here.
The image is free to download for my personal use.
Thanks to Heritage Snapper and Imageafter.com for the image.
Also entered in WordPress’s daily prompt – Radiate.
A forest of anchors the iron hot to the touch, sit like silent sentinels against incursions from the sea. Half buried in the soft white sand of the dunes they are a stark reminder of long ago battles, the thin shadows offering no reprieve from the baking sun.
Wreck shore, they called it, the wood long ago rotted away, the row of anchors the only reminder of battering storms, of life boats hurriedly lowered and of prayers uttered aloud to an unseen god, asking for a reprieve.
The harsh sun beat down upon the thin strip of beach, its sand white against the starkness of the yellow desert beyond. Sand against sand, separated by a black line of anchors. A broken sign lies half buried in the sand, the bits of paint barely holding on to the wood showing a picture of the skull to those who cared to look – the sign offering no reprieve to those who had made it that far.
Image downloaded with permission from Writing Exercises.
The heat of the day brought with it a storm, blowing in dramatically in the otherwise still afternoon.
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