Day 1
Today is national smile day. B)
I tend to be a bit of a pedantic penny when it comes to writing.. I'm going to try my best to formulate my vignettes without too much ornamentation.
Yay.
Pure, unembellished self-indulgence!
Join me on my Lovely &Quaint journey!
The scene depicts an individual, positioned centrally in an expansive field—a woman who appears to be youngish and somewhat subdued.
The verdant glades aligning her periphery give the impression you could spend hours wandering through them—vistas of ineffable yet irresistible tranquility with no perceptible end.
There's a distinctive, spacey sway to her idling. One would surmise she may have subconsciously modified her stance so that she's attuned to the air's own gentle whirring. Beyond this observation, her posture indicates she's quite the errant dame...perhaps one who has come to possess a few proclivities derived via dubious origins, too many. She has this disparately passive mien, you'd assume is bound to leave any man who deigns to engage with her perplexed. Regardless, just as all other beings, she is cradled by the serenity of a planet that conspires to do well by its inhabitants. Kneeling before the lush greenery, and absorbing its Vernal Splendor—an ostensible kowtowing to Mother Nature—she extends her brittle arms forward, placing each palm against the Earth's surface. Remaining hunched over, she plunges her talons into its substrate...veering her fingertips back and forth beneath the soil. Persisting onwards, piercing deeper and deeper...scraping her knuckles as she penetrates beyond the perimeters that the natural dignity of a Normal human would permit. Her distinguishingly hollow visage now superimposed with a mysterious rictus—as if she gains a turpitudinous, mutative form of pleasure in the profanation of the fauna. Suddenly, the surrounding thickets begin to shudder. Gusts of wind impose, hurling a leaf directly into her face before convening with a slew of clouds—clouds that are amorphous, dim, and steadily approaching. In a matter of milliseconds, they devour the sky in its entirety, inciting our maiden to expel her hands, haplessly grating up a tuft of grass amidst the process.
Could this be considered a deft gesticulation of gratitude amidst crucible uncertainty?
A dystonically fitful attempt to mediate between herself and the unknown?
Perhaps even a lady of pariah status can find solidarity in the perpetuity of life.
daily augury:vermiculated clover leaf
current mood:sapped and bleary
for your listening:naru-naru_TYO - Heart of asia (picking MIX)
critter companion:Cinnabar Moth
RETURN
