Sliding scenes of moving along roads lined by palms in a graceful manner under the burning sun whilst not a care in the world floats on by the seat of which the living is occurring but it’s all with some sort of hidden intensity. That’s the way it goes on the odd occasion.
Still, not a care. Sunglasses on. Hair out. Somewhat flowing. Looking cool. Looking sleek. Watching as all the urban scenery rolls on by and it seems to dismantle itself so it can float on away in thought bubbles and clouds and all fades to something else entirely. A metamorphosis occurs and it’s all changing and shifting all at once. Still the coolness persists.
An ever-changing face stares down at a flower growing upon its lonesome atop a hill with no particularly unique features other than its location and its greenery. They crouch and look ever closer at the flower which seems strong, but only grows as tall as it needs to. Down the hill the person goes.
Scenery floating on by and disappearing once it is out of view. It once existed but now it no longer can until it is witnessed once more. The driving moves along the streets and looks for a turn so it can find something with more curve in its stretch. The sun beats down and makes everything appear somewhat-saturated. The driving continues.
More words seem to come up and be conjured into existence by the mere thought. The thoughts are being witnessed as physical words but not by the one thinking them; only by others around. Nothing out of the ordinary as the sky changes colours along with everything else. It all happens over a prolonged brief few seconds. It etches itself into memory for as long as it can, but only in the present for as long as the present doesn’t leave it behind.
Down the street walks someone search surreptitiously. They are yet to know what it is that they are looking for and so would rather not reveal it, lest they increase the chances of not finding what it is that they indeed are looking to find. They do their best to not look as though they are acting in a way that would arouse curiosity, for that may lead them to spill their proverbial beans.
No longer it seems that the trees are multiplying and flowing onward, but the driving continues on. There is not a care in the world. There is nothing to worry about as there are no worries in this particular place of existence. That sometimes is the way it goes, but of course it can only be for some series of moments rather than an eternal stretch of time, of which will eventually deconstruct so it can reconstruct itself ahead of itself so that it can continue flowing on like a unstoppable force.
And so the scenes keep on sliding along roads lined by palms in a graceful manner under the burning sun.
The time it took to write five-hundred words: 08:46:95
I think I was trying to create imagery when I wrote this. Not entirely sure as to how successful I was, but I’m satisfied with the result. It’s not great writing but it was moving toward something I want to move toward.
Written at home.