The old dead olive trunk served as our message board. We would pen our existential fears and queries onto small pieces of blue cardboard and hang them to the branches. The ones that resisted the elements were considered as unanswerable, while we could expect feedback of some sorts on the ones that got away. Sometimes the answer was even more obscure than the original angst-ridden question and we would labour over the problems, trying to figure out what demand a rain of miniature frogs could stand for. In the end we settled for “forty-two?”. It seemed to make sense, somehow.
I'm new here, so I hope I'm doing this right. I usually wait to post something until I have a 'feel' for the group/audience, but this prompt really worked for me and I felt compelled to post this.
Oh, and thanks for being here with the prompts! This looks to be exactly what I need!!
Anyway, constructive criticism and feedback are always appreciated.
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In the end we settled for “forty-two?”. It seemed to make sense, somehow.
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Oh, and thanks for being here with the prompts! This looks to be exactly what I need!!
Anyway, constructive criticism and feedback are always appreciated.
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