I know little about photography.
I can hold a camera, take a picture,
But I can't make a picture real.
What goes on behind a dark room's door?
Bring blank to bare, then something more?
Can an image be simpler in black and white,
Or does gray shade the stills with its presence?
What about pictures in sepia tones?
Are their colors just half-realized?
A memory, framed, brought half to life,
Then abandoned in shadows of auburn?
How much weight can the paper take?
Do pictures need to breathe?
I know little about photography,
But I know of a photo's reality.
I know that a picture is as solid as grief
And as threadbare as sunlight on blue-striped
I like to picture you and me
Under the boughs of a Scottish tree,
Books in hand, and hand-in-hand,
In the tufts of grasses green.
A fleeting moment we two stand,
Gazing 'cross the fertile land,
Stealing time from lives apart
To lay in leaves that softly land.
Leaning back, the stories start,
Gentle breaths while glances dart,
Reading more than written thoughts;
Reading lips, reading hearts.
In a place that time forgot,
Housed in a land we two have sought,
Distant lovers, distance-taught,
Can always meet in dreams I've wrought.
-Brittany Adams
Odyssey II: Chapter 1- You Win Some, You Ooze Some by Fluffytheartist, literature
Literature
Odyssey II: Chapter 1- You Win Some, You Ooze Some
Chapter One: You Win Some, You Ooze Some
The air in the hotel room was sticky, the heat of summer seeping through the half-open window overlooking London's book district. Paul fidgeted with his pants, trying to overcome the adhesive effects of humidity and sweat that were working along his inner thighs. With a final tug, his trousers fell onto the bathroom floor.
His cell phone buzzed. I guess Zoë got my message after all. He put it on speaker before turning the sink's tap all the way up.
"Hey, Paul! I'm glad that little mishap hasn't entirely put you off this trip! I mean, I don't know what I would've done if a guy had just keeled ov