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ScalesWe're in class. It's test day; I'm playing scales. All is going well. There is no difficulty in this, not really. Not anymore, at least. I've become capable at this if not at much else. I reach the upper tier of B flat major--the same assignment as every year, of course--and breeze back down.
It's easy to learn something that happens all the time. After a while, you just know it, with an intimacy that guides every twitch of your fingers and laces every breath that you take.
I'm in G minor now. Natural, then harmonic, then melodic. It's a pretty gradation for something so melancholic. That said, I've always held a preference for the harmonic
21-10-2011Help me, I've fallen and I can't get back up.
I'm surrounded by dark walls and darker soil. There's no light in here, not really anyway, not anymore. There used to be a lot of it, I think, but it's dusk now. There's only a faint glow if I look up--or is that down, already?
I've tripped into a well, I think. Somehow. So the light must come from above. That much I have now, at least.
Tattered remnants of once-white sheets surround me. A beetle skitters onto my knee and screeches at me. I jerkily flick it away. There are more down here, of course, lots even, but I try to ignore their little cries.
Leave me alone. Can't you see that I'm bigge
the tree fellThe room is quiet.
No, it isn't quiet.
It is full, just discreetly so.
The air is saturated with possibility:
the (potential) energy of a seed in a new abode.
up swishes the conductor's wand,
and up snap the heads of his group,
and soft, velvety notes begin,
The sound climbs,
and it flies,
Now bells come in,
ring striking tones,
and suddenly it's snowing,
it's Christmas in July.
The movement is everything,
then fall then rise,
like a musical breath.
Do you know the taste of the universe?One day, when you’re five years old and made out of fractured sunlight and mirror shards, you sit down on the bench of the MAX train. You’re dressed in your winter coat and boots that are too big and one of your parents has pulled your hat too close over your ears.
You’re sitting next to your mother, and on the other side is a man that smells like loneliness, something that you’ll later know as cigarettes and alcohol and homelessness. He’s crying quietly into the top of his jacket and you’re scared to look because you’ve never seen an adult cry.
The train ride goes on for five minutes, which is a lo
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More