Sometimes beauty is found in a painted picture, that only the artists comprehends. Sometimes power is felt in a dance, that only the performers understand. And sometimes there is a magnificence in words, that only the writer can translate. Perhaps, that is the beauty of art, allowing each of us to reach our own conclusion. From Toronto, Canada a young writer presents The White Butterfly. The beauty in his words, lies in the mystery of their intent.
Originally written September 1, at 3 p.m.
Tranquil. That’s how I’d describe the moment. But not a good type of tranquility: it isn’t the kind that simply drowns out the background noise and let’s you get lost in your own thoughts; it’s not the kind that soothes every nerve to the point of ecstasy. This tranquility is almost superficial. It is what is imposed on you by the elements – by circumstance.
It is the dead calm of the day. It is the single and distant bird whistle or squawk. It is the all-too-audible humming of some machine. It is the lonesome white butterfly making its way through the wind, seemingly lost. The sky torments me: the dead, grey lump above me that threatens me with a deluge, but dares not move a muscle. It doesn’t even breathe hard, for the trees don’t dance. A few shake their…
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I am pleased to announce that you have been awarded the the Shauny Award for Blogging Excellence! 🙂
Here’s how you collect your prize.
1) Follow the link: http://westutterandwedontcare.wordpress.com/awardsnominations/
2) Copy and and paste the image into a post and make a list.
3) Once posted then send a comment to the bloggers on your nominations list sharing the award.
*Note I just followed the advice of the person who nominated us, since this is our first award.
So very thoughtful of you. Thank you, James and welcome to The Neighborhood.
Thank you for supporting us from the very beginning 🙂