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Daily Deviation
Daily Deviation
February 25, 2011
"I saw..." this piece says. And the reader sees it too. A Pinpoint View by ~OnyxPhoenix takes inspiration, and makes it real.
Featured by nycterent
Literature
A Small, Good Thing
Her mother used to take her out for rides on the motorbike at night. The girl would cling to her mother's jacket, perched on the back of the seat. They used to ride around the island in the dark. It only took half an hour to go all the way around and back to their house. They'd ride by the sea, black as oil in the night, and by the rental houses and the pancake house and the fire house. The daughter would often stay up, if she happened to wake in the night, in the hope that she'd hear the garage door opening.
After the divorce, when the house on the island was sold and they moved to a place where the out-of-doors at night was no place for wo
Literature
Existential Crises
There was an odd feeling that washed over her on Saturday mornings. She sat dazed between unfinished paintings, white canvases with specks of reality, and piles of unorganized papers; they seemed to magically grow and multiply as if by an imaginary stroke of the hand. Some were bills she always forgot to pay, or letters from Dylan that always ended up, with the envelope still tightly shut, in the trash. You can read a person's personality, right to its gritty core, simply by examning their trash. She had Ding-Dong wrappers, ice-cream containers, sketches of people and people that were no-longer, and a rotting carton of orange juice with a lon
Literature
Where Only I am Present
I tread along the rain-worn streets
Of urban sprawls whose dwellers sleep
In pied quilts or a lover's fold,
Minds filled with easy, pleasant dreams.
Within the hour, young and old
Will rise for what the day might hold,
With vigor’s kiss on beating breasts,
To ward from winter's ice and cold.
The maples bow to winds' duress -
Adorned in frost, their Sunday best;
Though as for snow upon the ground,
Such sparsity does ill impress.
I cleave my path without a sound,
As if to shore the magic wound
Throughout the city's empty sweep
Where only I am present bound.
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For #transliterations prompt #3.
This is the exercise:
"From foreign languages to traditional artwork to photography. The mechanical, the digital eye! This prompt will see us translating from one of the most accurate of mediums to one of the most abstract and insubstantial. How, you ask? Well. First, you'll choose one of the photos below--
<Imagine 5 photos here>
--or two, or more, if you feel like writing several pieces (and why not?) The point we're trying to make here is that one photo equals one literary submission.
Once you have your chosen photo, pick a direction. Left to right, up to down, diagonal--you choose. Then, translate the photo in that order. To take the photo of the miners as an example, you could write about each man in turn, left to right or right to left; or perhaps describe their heads, then their torsos, and so on, or even start from their feet and work up. The order things appear in your photo with your chosen direction is the order in which you will write."
_________________________________
26th Feb
A DD!
These are the photos this piece was written to - please do check them out!
Maria,Salinger and her lake [link] by ~WithinEye
self space [link] by ~gndrfck
summer [link] by `imogene
same thoughts [link] by =Ditze
Miners 3 [link] by ~andyfloss2000
Many thanks to #transliterations for putting together awesome lit challenges. Check them out and join in, they are holding a competition in March.
© 2011 - 2024 silvernium
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