Feb 18, 2007

Writing Technique: Grass, Dreams, and a little bit of Soap

Grass. Smooth, soft, green. They say its greener on the other side. The other side of what? Who’s they? I’ve been to a lot of ‘other sides’ and I haven’t seen it yet. They say it’s softer, sweeter, lusher. That when you get there, nothing can bother you again. Life will be perfect. Where is the other side? Everywhere I go the grass is the same, I haven’t been able to find the place of perfect grass that everyone talks about.

Dreams. Awake or asleep. A goal, something to look forward to. Beautiful or scary, broken or whole. Dreams shape through the simplest form of communication. A touch, or maybe a look; always possessing a shadow of a doubt. Was I dreaming, or did it really happen? Is my life just a dream? When will I wake up? What do my dreams say?

Soap. Cleanliness. The smell of soap means so much. It’s more than just clean. It’s memories and a soothing scent. Soap is slippery. Flying away from you, sliding on the bottom of the shower. Making bubbles with soap as you wash your hands and sing the ABC’s. Just watching everything go down the drain—the bubbles disappear as well as the dirt and yuck that you had carried with you all day. A metaphor.

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