Today my dog and I went for a walk, because it was nice out and why not? While I didn't meet any one, per say, I did people watch along the way. Here's some of the most noteable:
-one older lady who I can only describe as "the golf mom" with a visor, polo shirt, kakie shorts, a schnauzer, and a six year old
-Two mopy teenage girls pretending like they weren't swinging on the swings (because enjoying things that were fun as a child isn't cool)
-a man sitting on his front porch next to I kid you not the American flag made of Christmas lights, the size of a door turned sideways. I can only imagine what his neighbors go through at night
-a teenager sitting in his drive way, back to the garage door, texting. No clue why, you okay dude?
-an abundance of beautiful chalk art on many different sidewalks
-a group of friends playing volley ball - good for them! They probably drink smoothies and go for early morning jogs together as well, and I applaud them for it
There weren't many people out, since I went out when it was starting too cool off and the sun was setting, but that just means the people who I did see stuck in my brain more. Who did you see today?
Listening to: s4 Sherlock's soundtrack
27.6.17
9.6.17
Things I Hear
I'm a bad listener (my parents and friends know this, as my chores always slip my mind and birthdays can never stick in my head). But occasionally, I like to sit back and listen, just to see what I'm missing - and I don't mean listen to words, exactly.
When I listen, I hear the soothing way my hands fly across a keyboard. The vent's slow, constant buzz of air. My own heart beat, my own breath.
When I listen, I hear the way a person's voice rises and falls, like a never ending song. I hear a child's soft stutter, the high pitch of one woman's voice and the boston accent of another.
When I listen, I hear thousands of stories, some going untold. I can hear words missing from sentences, the dialogue of the world all around me. The fabric of the universe; words.
When I listen, I hear the murmuring of my father when he crumples a paper, the soft creaking of a hammock, a child's shout outside.
I always try to end these posts profoundly, but it usually ends up cheesy and cringe-worthy. So rather than try to be profound, I'll just leave you with these questions: what did you hear today? ...and what did you miss?
When I listen, I hear the soothing way my hands fly across a keyboard. The vent's slow, constant buzz of air. My own heart beat, my own breath.
When I listen, I hear the way a person's voice rises and falls, like a never ending song. I hear a child's soft stutter, the high pitch of one woman's voice and the boston accent of another.
When I listen, I hear thousands of stories, some going untold. I can hear words missing from sentences, the dialogue of the world all around me. The fabric of the universe; words.
When I listen, I hear the murmuring of my father when he crumples a paper, the soft creaking of a hammock, a child's shout outside.
I always try to end these posts profoundly, but it usually ends up cheesy and cringe-worthy. So rather than try to be profound, I'll just leave you with these questions: what did you hear today? ...and what did you miss?
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