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.
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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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this is... The Neighborhood 
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.
Warm Regards,
James
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So very thoughtful of you. Thank you, James and welcome to The Neighborhood.
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Thank you for supporting us from the very beginning 🙂
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