Object Writing - "Diving For Pearls"

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« Reply #15 on: June 11, 2022, 05:55:43 PM »
Hi Adam! What a great way to keep up with... just writing. And also returning to it after a long break!
Your writing has a nice realism to it, really paints a picture. Good work.

I decided to give it a try myself. Not writing but starting as voice memo.

River (4.43 min voice memo - 11 June)
River I don't know where it begins. River more than it seems, I´ve never seen the end.
Clearly I'm not the only one who stands at these strands worried perhaps that there's nothing that will keep me back. The water doesn't look that pure, the water doesn't look like water anymore.
It's only currents.
If time is of the essence, maybe there is time.

The beginning and the end, the slope of the hill. The journey towards the ocean and still. My memories are only a story of the past, a past that I´ve forgotten just won't last. Early I rise, and early I fall. I wonder if I sleep at all.

Trees hanging, resting on the surface yearning.
I close my eyes and I hear buckets of rain.
Feeling Filling a bottomless pit.

The singing stream that I remember was so small, nothing like a river at all.
« Last Edit: June 24, 2022, 08:35:58 PM by Martinswede »


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« Reply #16 on: June 20, 2022, 08:55:19 AM »
Hey @Martinswede  - so great that you also did one. As you say, writing is always good in whatever way. I find it's really different typing or writing with pen and paper - and probably by voice memo is even different again.
I think your piece has some really interesting lines which could grow up to be parts of a song.


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« Reply #17 on: June 28, 2022, 07:43:08 AM »
Ocean (10 mins - 28 June 2022)

Blue is a lie; the density of the opaque deep is a glassy black rock. A rock in angry motion furiously trying to reach the moon with its foamy breath. White beards like acid teeth bubbling and brooding and competing with immobile objects saying Aye, we'll see about that.

The tide smells of the weedy fibres woven into the mouths of mussels, the salt hits the nose like a laboratory of spores, the spray filling the air like viruses singing sweetly to the lungs. Who welcome them in, seduced into moving in sympathy, voluntarily creating our own puny waves in the air.

The light scatters, no freshness in the anchovy mist, tepid stars cutting into the grinding sand.

Wicked deeds

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« Reply #18 on: June 28, 2022, 08:37:37 PM »
@adamfarr, such an enjoyable thread with some delightful observations. Incredibly well written.

"I stand upon this rocky shore, firing signals into space."