Sometimes I’m someone else
8th September 2008We navigate through the wild life in each other’s gardens, like a symphony that’s missing certain, essential instruments. We touch a wild flower here and dodge an ornery bee there, but we don’t get the aerial view, nor do we show it. Where once there was green grass, now sits a hardened slab of concrete, entrenched. Some nooks in the garden shine with glorious brightness, while others are drenched in shadow. In some well fertilised patches, all kinds of strange flora grow; others are barren or worse. But we won’t talk about those. Not now. Not yet.
Because you have, your own means, your own way, all your own. I don’t know you or I do to some extent or no extent, but I appreciate you, wholly and without reservation, for one reason or another or a combination thereof.
9th September 2008 at 10:05 am
The orchestra of my life is missing a cor anglais and inexplicably has seventeen French horns.
9th September 2008 at 11:45 am
Two things: the symphony bit is out of place. I get it but could you find a way to say the same thing using a nature metaphor? Also, I like the second paragraph but try it as a single sentence. I think it might flow better and, yes, it does change the flow of the whole piece but…well, see what you think.
9th September 2008 at 12:12 pm
The aerial view is rarely enchanting. Details are always holding my attention.
9th September 2008 at 8:01 pm
Sometimes I’m someone else too. But not often enough, for my liking.
[This comment is in lieu of one which would simply contain sheer filth in response to Jack’s mention of French horns. See, I can show some restraint.]
11th September 2008 at 10:17 pm
Jack: I did wonder who was making that racket.
Jim: Nah, to me music and nature are one. And I don’t want the second paragraph to flow, because the ideas behind it certainly don’t.
Lore: I like your view of the details very much.
AUW: Yes, losing oneself happens all too rarely. Thank you for your restraint. This is not that sort of blog, after all.
12th September 2008 at 11:26 am
This is beautiful, more gentle than some of the things you write, which perhaps fits with the title. I like the contrasts in the description and the suggestion of what they might show about us as individuals.
12th September 2008 at 9:42 pm
Jem: Mr Jem! (Um, Ms Jem? Oh dear, how terribly embarrassing. No offense intended, the medium, you understand.) Are you saying I lack gentility?! ;)