agreed! the laughter being like a stone dropped into a lake and spreading like ripples is such nice imagery you can really be in the park with them
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The car’s and phones pinging being heard as a urban symphony is awesome!
Glad you’re back I’ve missed this!
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Really nice imagery Harry, this has percolated joy to me just by reading it!
I really like the thick exhaust from the bus being a respite. This sort of mechanism keeps coming up and there must be a name for it - kind of like @Tofu4’s “coffee as a sedative” - we are inverting the expectation to great effect.
Also, you’ve captured the banal drudgery of the cubicle world well - I really like the imagery of ketchup as the modern warpaint to face the frontier of naughts and ones that we can hardly define anymore.
I really like the metaphor of industrial refugees - maybe the benches could be lifeboats, the city an unfamiliar shoreline where they must integrate into this brave new world.
I feel like we were writing similar scenarios! Ha. One industrial drone and one person basking in the activity at the same place. Good use of visual imagery and auditory stimulation. And the smell of cut grass is easily identifiable. Great job.
I believe the literary term would be verbal irony by way of oxymoron. That’s just my guess. Two ideas that don’t go together being used to build a type of tension and play with expectations.
There’s a translucent haze in every direction. A slowly shifting summer peach light watches me through the trees, while a cozy breeze covers me from head to toe. The sun is a tender lover today, touching her warm lips on my cheeks. I don’t mind at all. My breath is like golden honey being poured without rush. The birds are singing faintly, considerate of my stillness and thoughts. It feels as if I’m melting into the wood, weightless and without worry. Time itself naps nearby under the towering oak.
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Beautiful!! This is great! The breeze and the birds and time itself napping is fantastic! This is activating the senses!
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Time goes slow, ticking as my brain searches for dopamine from a smartphone that doesn’t exist yet. My feet sink, quicksand in the grass, as dew crawls into my shoes watering down my socks. A bench, discolored from the elements, tasting of butter lettuce on one side and pistachio on the other, splinters cracked on one side as a warning of what’s to come or a sign of a well-loved seat, summons the aches and pains in my body. A moment of respite I inhale the fresh air, the dew, and slight smell of dog poo. The doors to my eyes shut slowly as I lean back, angled to the left.
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You’ve got some brilliantly descriptive sentences in here, particularly with the discoloured bench. “Splinters” is a great word as it associates us with such strong tactile sensation. The only sense missing is the audible one, but other than that some lovely stuff well done!
I really like the searching the phone for dopamine, that need for immediate satisfaction and escapism. The dew on the grass on your socks is a neat image because it is such a slow build (feeding on the first sentence sense of time). Really good writing.
The mighty Oak guards let me pass but bar the covert diesel fumes covertly trailing me, protesting at the gate through the occasional horns and sirens. I dive into the fresh air as if a lake on a hot summer’s day. A brief survey of the area reveals a bench most likely out of earshot of the overly enthusiastic Bob Dylan impressionist whose grass-stained toes tap erratically. I offered my thanks to Joan’s memory as stone, cool as the flipside of a pillow, pressed against me. Mysteries traverse the park enticing the detective out of me. A man no doubt searching for just the right rose for his unknowing fiancé grins with a hidden nose as he finds the winner. I tense and duck for the tightrope walkers training for the world circus as they tumble about up and down, blurring the divide between jumping and flying. My lips smack as a woman in CEO black and white grins over hot steam as she finally finds the world’s best cup of coffee.
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I really like the image of the sun being a tender lover today. It is definitely such a “show me the moonlight glinting on a shard of glass” description. Also, I love the personification of time napping nearby. I think I could do much better with personification and you’ve inspired me to incorporate it more.
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The personification of the trees as guards (or kind of bouncers) is really neat. It draws a picture that wouldn’t be there otherwise. On the second sentence, it this case, I feel like a straight metaphor rather than a simile would be more powerful (Like “I dive into the lake of fresh air seeking respite from the hot summer’s day” or something). The Bob Dylan reference with grass stained toes is really good at painting a specific image and auditory cue. The man choosing a rose is great because it gives us that internal sense of pressure to find right one for a proposal. That stress contrasts nicely with the “seeking relief” overtone.
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I finally release a long, audible sigh and sit on the sturdy wooden park bench like a heap of unwashed laundry. The greasy, alluring hotdog in my hand churns my anticipating stomach, so I tear into it. The combination of spicy mustard, sweet ketchup, and hot meat mix with the various sounds of the park and city; the harsh hums of traffic and incomprehensible conversations were overlaid with birds singing and a water fountain softly cascading.
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Sitting like a heap of unwashed laundry is brilliant and really sets this piece up for the description that follows. Really nice sensory stuff so keep up the practice!
The green paint sparse and thin sheen sticks to strangers clothes. A moment of repose painted in chalky speckles between old and young fingers alike. Under the seat is a hollow mound of kicked pebbles and white dust. Prints of leather loafers and tiny feet alike are momentarily fossilized until the next refugee shuffles them out. Through polyester pants and cotton blend shirts, the sun scorched wood reminds the refugee, this is a momentary oasis. Hands gripped at the edge of the earth fill with salty pools. Hot dust fills nostrils with feverish musk. Beads of sweat start under start at flattened red buttocks, then creeps up the valleys of the lower back, then assaults the upper lip. Veins thicken under thin skin. Your time is up. And so the devious little green bench relaxes back into it’s humble welcoming posture. Saying nothing to it’s departed guest of the Rorschach sweat blotches so graciously gifted.
The backs of my legs are scorched by cold, hard steel. I feel the remnants of this mornings rain shower sneak through my the backs of my jeans, kissing the skin underneath. My nostrils burn as I inhale. I smell nothing. Just cold, fresh air. I exhale a cloud which hides the dim streetlamps and light from queued traffic far off in the distance. An almost silence is broken by muffled sounds of rush hour traffic and faint barking in the distance.
The summer wind ripples across my face. The wooden bench with small splinters in it when I rub my fingers across them. I feel so alive from the sunshine with my girl by my side. The scent of a nearby bonfire tickles my nose as it crawls up my nostrils. The birds chirping their little melodies as I lay back and take it all in like a deep inhale of fresh air. I hold her tighter as we both lay back further.