Influenced by the weather yet again - I am the barefoot girl. ^^
Title: Ephemera
Words: 1 075. ^^
PG
Self-revised. :3
-this is Super Junior related... in a way...maybe...somehow...if you (- I -) want it to be-
Not related to My Challenge. Just, something I wrote, like that, for fun.
A/N: Inspired by the weather today, among other things. And I have just discovered how hard it is to write/describe someone without saying "me" or "you" or "I" when refering to actions that one is doing while still implying that this person was doing it... Plus, I dont know what this is... Mixed emotions? A need to write? The weather making me do weird things? The rain getting to my head? - About the p.o.v....This could be me, could be you, could be anyone! Could be no one too.
PS. I love the rain. Just not in the month of June, when it should be warm and nice and sunny. *sniffles*
PPS. The song I was listening to when writing this...Well, go see the video. It's beautiful, and weird and cool and different and disturbing. And painfully sad. It's only her, a table and three glasses. And some light snow (or feathers?). It's simply beautiful...
~ Imagine Sungmin here. In Japan. ~
- « - » -
The rain drizzles down onto the sidewalk, a nearby bike splashing the water as the cyclists encounters a puddle of the lukewarm water. Kids run into puddles only to be pulled back by parents, mouths moving in a stern way. The children move back from the puddles and walk along. Older people, busy with life, strut the roadsides, navigating around the offensive liquid, phones in hand, coats closed up to the chin, faces scrunched up. Other people walk about carelessly, hands in pockets, starring at the atmosphere. Their eyes are bright and pensive.
Some others smoke cigarettes in hidden corners, afraid of the rain. Their flames stay alight in the wind, warming their drawn faces, tendrils of white vapours masking their features.
One girl in a pale blue coat walks about bare foot, holding her white and soaked sandals in one hand, her purse in the other. She was caught by the unexpected rain. Her feet are red with cold and yet she grins as she jumps from shallow water pools to another.
The sun has hidden behind its thick blanket of clouds and the shop men and women have gone back inside to hide from the cold. A pale grey light touches everything and the sky reflects itself on the glistening flat surfaces of the road. The air smells fresh and moist, and the low temperature makes the tips of peoples’ fingers prickle.
Cars, slow and quiet, drift up and down the road, like leaves along a river, lost in the current. Their colours are diluted, like two much water in an artist’s paint, the shapes blurry in the slanted and sudden downpour. Water spills out from under their wheels, onto the slabs of concrete and onto some unlucky people. Watery waves swish and swash after the disturbance and slowly settle back until disturbed again. People curse the careless drivers and continue on their way until disturbed again.
The lamps are not yet on, but they will be in less then a few minutes. It is this in between time, not yet night and still day, the rain washing away the last rays of light. Shapes are still shapes, but outlines are muddled, unclear and fuzzy, like a dream dreamed with half-opened eyes and a mind confused about life. About reality.
Steps are unburdened. They lead around the city, eyes drinking in the sights. Picture after picture is taken to capture what the mind cannot. Perfect. The day has been long, but the night will be longer. And it is better that way. Taking time. Taking away time. Giving back time. Making time. Losing time.
Forgetting time.
Late night people wander the streets, laughing and hugging under dark umbrellas, closer then ever as their breaths fog up and curl around their rosy cheeks, hands holding each others through thin gloves. Words are hushed and flow, like the rain on the rooftops, sliding down the glossy metal onto heads, shoulders and feet.
Wet shoes squawk in protest with each footstep further away from the temporary home here. The lights are on now, yellow and warm, pin-points in the darkness for the lost moths of this world, trying to come back home. Or somewhere warmer.
Silence descends on the world as life trickles back from whence it came; to homes, houses, apartments or late night bars. The wet pavement washes away all traces of human life, like a virgin snow does to footsteps in winter, imprints of the passing of life. The moving world has come to a standstill and it ceases to produce sound for the briefest of moments. It is as if the world has forgotten how to speak. For once, it learns how to listen, even if there is nothing to hear.
Staying out in the silence is more fulfilling then one may have thought. The quiet seeps into bones and rests the restless mind. It sooths the soul.
Frozen feet lead to a small coffee shop, still open. The order is quick. Stiff hands wrap around a cup of streaming brown liquid, happy and relieved at the warmth.
Back onto the streets it is, wandering with no aim in mind, smiling at people who are unknown, walking faster when shady areas appear and dragging feet when seeing a beautiful scene. Eyes feast on a world totally different from its daylight counter-part.
Pausing every now and then, a break in time, a flash and a memory is made.
The rain is still present, soft and delicate along every material and surface, soaking earth, hair and clothes. It is very dark out now, black. The sky is covered and still, clouds knotted together, the sun long gone.
There will be no stars tonight and no moon. The sky sleeps over a city that never does.
Asking directions is not easy when both interlocutors speak in different tongues. Arms are used and eyes say more then the mouth could ever. Smiles are exchanged in form of thanks, adding in a polite bow, out of courtesy.
Cars pass by now and then, as rare and careful as the lonely beings still out at this time of night. Sounds come back little by little, just like the pale and bright light does as it worms its way through the heavy grey obstructions in the sky.
The city is still spectacular. Winding streets and roads, bigger ones packed with people or empty of life. It’s strange. The quiet comes and goes. The people come and go. The rain comes and goes. And so does the sun.
It’s another sleepless night tonight and another long day ahead. Snaps have been taken to remember this short trip and steps are weary upon the stairs back up to “home.” Feet are blistered from the long walk, the mind cleared and the soul cleansed. Care is taken to undressing and the cup is thrown into the garbage.
Another coffee is being made, but it will never be as good.
The windows are still wet with raindrops, the shoes still soaked with water and the camera is filled with pictures.
A breath is blown on the windowpane and it slowly covers the window in a thin film of grey, see-through and opaque at the same time. A finger traces patterns into it and eyes watch these very patterns erase away and disappear, short-lived. Ephemera.
I may not come back here, but these memories will last forever…
…As long as I remember.
Fin.
Words: 1 075. ^^
PG
Self-revised. :3
-this is Super Junior related... in a way...maybe...somehow...if you (- I -) want it to be-
Not related to My Challenge. Just, something I wrote, like that, for fun.
A/N: Inspired by the weather today, among other things. And I have just discovered how hard it is to write/describe someone without saying "me" or "you" or "I" when refering to actions that one is doing while still implying that this person was doing it... Plus, I dont know what this is... Mixed emotions? A need to write? The weather making me do weird things? The rain getting to my head? - About the p.o.v....This could be me, could be you, could be anyone! Could be no one too.
PS. I love the rain. Just not in the month of June, when it should be warm and nice and sunny. *sniffles*
PPS. The song I was listening to when writing this...Well, go see the video. It's beautiful, and weird and cool and different and disturbing. And painfully sad. It's only her, a table and three glasses. And some light snow (or feathers?). It's simply beautiful...
~ Imagine Sungmin here. In Japan. ~
- « - » -
The rain drizzles down onto the sidewalk, a nearby bike splashing the water as the cyclists encounters a puddle of the lukewarm water. Kids run into puddles only to be pulled back by parents, mouths moving in a stern way. The children move back from the puddles and walk along. Older people, busy with life, strut the roadsides, navigating around the offensive liquid, phones in hand, coats closed up to the chin, faces scrunched up. Other people walk about carelessly, hands in pockets, starring at the atmosphere. Their eyes are bright and pensive.
Some others smoke cigarettes in hidden corners, afraid of the rain. Their flames stay alight in the wind, warming their drawn faces, tendrils of white vapours masking their features.
One girl in a pale blue coat walks about bare foot, holding her white and soaked sandals in one hand, her purse in the other. She was caught by the unexpected rain. Her feet are red with cold and yet she grins as she jumps from shallow water pools to another.
The sun has hidden behind its thick blanket of clouds and the shop men and women have gone back inside to hide from the cold. A pale grey light touches everything and the sky reflects itself on the glistening flat surfaces of the road. The air smells fresh and moist, and the low temperature makes the tips of peoples’ fingers prickle.
Cars, slow and quiet, drift up and down the road, like leaves along a river, lost in the current. Their colours are diluted, like two much water in an artist’s paint, the shapes blurry in the slanted and sudden downpour. Water spills out from under their wheels, onto the slabs of concrete and onto some unlucky people. Watery waves swish and swash after the disturbance and slowly settle back until disturbed again. People curse the careless drivers and continue on their way until disturbed again.
The lamps are not yet on, but they will be in less then a few minutes. It is this in between time, not yet night and still day, the rain washing away the last rays of light. Shapes are still shapes, but outlines are muddled, unclear and fuzzy, like a dream dreamed with half-opened eyes and a mind confused about life. About reality.
Steps are unburdened. They lead around the city, eyes drinking in the sights. Picture after picture is taken to capture what the mind cannot. Perfect. The day has been long, but the night will be longer. And it is better that way. Taking time. Taking away time. Giving back time. Making time. Losing time.
Forgetting time.
Late night people wander the streets, laughing and hugging under dark umbrellas, closer then ever as their breaths fog up and curl around their rosy cheeks, hands holding each others through thin gloves. Words are hushed and flow, like the rain on the rooftops, sliding down the glossy metal onto heads, shoulders and feet.
Wet shoes squawk in protest with each footstep further away from the temporary home here. The lights are on now, yellow and warm, pin-points in the darkness for the lost moths of this world, trying to come back home. Or somewhere warmer.
Silence descends on the world as life trickles back from whence it came; to homes, houses, apartments or late night bars. The wet pavement washes away all traces of human life, like a virgin snow does to footsteps in winter, imprints of the passing of life. The moving world has come to a standstill and it ceases to produce sound for the briefest of moments. It is as if the world has forgotten how to speak. For once, it learns how to listen, even if there is nothing to hear.
Staying out in the silence is more fulfilling then one may have thought. The quiet seeps into bones and rests the restless mind. It sooths the soul.
Frozen feet lead to a small coffee shop, still open. The order is quick. Stiff hands wrap around a cup of streaming brown liquid, happy and relieved at the warmth.
Back onto the streets it is, wandering with no aim in mind, smiling at people who are unknown, walking faster when shady areas appear and dragging feet when seeing a beautiful scene. Eyes feast on a world totally different from its daylight counter-part.
Pausing every now and then, a break in time, a flash and a memory is made.
The rain is still present, soft and delicate along every material and surface, soaking earth, hair and clothes. It is very dark out now, black. The sky is covered and still, clouds knotted together, the sun long gone.
There will be no stars tonight and no moon. The sky sleeps over a city that never does.
Asking directions is not easy when both interlocutors speak in different tongues. Arms are used and eyes say more then the mouth could ever. Smiles are exchanged in form of thanks, adding in a polite bow, out of courtesy.
Cars pass by now and then, as rare and careful as the lonely beings still out at this time of night. Sounds come back little by little, just like the pale and bright light does as it worms its way through the heavy grey obstructions in the sky.
The city is still spectacular. Winding streets and roads, bigger ones packed with people or empty of life. It’s strange. The quiet comes and goes. The people come and go. The rain comes and goes. And so does the sun.
It’s another sleepless night tonight and another long day ahead. Snaps have been taken to remember this short trip and steps are weary upon the stairs back up to “home.” Feet are blistered from the long walk, the mind cleared and the soul cleansed. Care is taken to undressing and the cup is thrown into the garbage.
Another coffee is being made, but it will never be as good.
The windows are still wet with raindrops, the shoes still soaked with water and the camera is filled with pictures.
A breath is blown on the windowpane and it slowly covers the window in a thin film of grey, see-through and opaque at the same time. A finger traces patterns into it and eyes watch these very patterns erase away and disappear, short-lived. Ephemera.
I may not come back here, but these memories will last forever…
…As long as I remember.
Fin.