The tongue has the power of life and death and those who love it eat its fruit.
Be kind 💕
DHG Episode 2: Old Barn, New Spin
The evening sky was dark. Clouds blocked any sign of the night sky’s lights. Among the brush sat a dilapidated barn. Old and worn, the structure was uncomely to the eyes and missing half of its roof. Warn boards protruded every which way. Traces of white paint could be found along the inside walls of the barn.
"Dystopia's Heart of Gold"
The aurora illuminated the night sky with a vibrant ray of glistening gold bringing in the new day just as it had every other night before it. The incandescence billowed over the land, slowly lighting the darkness as it gently poured over the forest like a chalice poured out from the east. Modest waves of purple danced among the gold in the sky for but the briefest moment. The musty air was redolent of tree sap, dirt, and algae, and the fog that was always so prevalent enveloped everything in its path. An almost symphonic eruption of sound resounded in the distance.
“The Sweetest Bouquet of a Little Blackbird”
Sammy ran her fingers across the spines of the small collection of her mother’s favorite books that had been tucked away on her preferred shelf. Her fingers danced across their titles like fingers on a piano and out of her lips poured a sort of song. “Better Homes and Gardens New Cook Book by Better Homes & Gardens, 1,000 Vegetarian Recipes by Carol Gelles, The Food Almanac by Miranda York,” her voice trailed. The last one was new. She wondered to herself when her mother had added it. Peeling it off the shelf she fingered lightly through its pages. One of the corners of one of the pages had a crease in it. Sammy read the heading aloud, “Quince.” She repeated it to herself and pondered it before continuing, “A much mistaken fruit”.
I'll Help You Decide
You take a satisfying sip of your favorite beverage while resting in your preferred position. After wiping some crumbs off of your face you begin to reach out your hand to grab the remote. Just before you grab it you notice a substance of some sort on one of your fingers. Without thinking about it you bring your hand back towards yourself and wipe it on your shirt. For those of you who just cringed, you may envision that you wipe your finger with a clean tissue from a tissue box that just so happens to be nearby. Now that your hand is clean you reach your hand back out for that remote. At that moment a decision must be made and you ask yourself, "What do I watch next?"
"From The Ad to The Cart"
I found myself lightly scrolling through my Instagram feed one day when one of the advertisements caught my attention. The website had an odd name that resembled a particular brand, but I will disclose more concerning that in a bit. The deal seemed too good to pass up on or maybe too good to be true. A few clicks later I found myself on a website filled with the items in the advertised photo and so much more. I browsed through some of their clothing articles and made my selections.
"Born With Sight"
What is in life that one would rejoice at the conception of a human. Balloons and glitter fill the air with color as time passes to reveal the life hidden away within. Our lives seem to be comprised of our experiences alone. What we look like, how we feel, and what has happened to us all shape our reality in this world. If we aren't careful we will begin to believe that our value lies in the sum of our experiences. Memories seem to slip away the further we travel down the path of time. What once was freshly etched into our brains becomes empty spaces left with burn marks unrecognizable. As to their source who could know except maybe the ones who were there. In time, even that begins to fade. There are some things that we say we will never forget, but over time we may change a few details here and there. I have had it happen to me before: my perception of a moment changing the next day. It seems that there is sometimes a pang of guilt that can follow when the ashes of the images burned in our minds begin to be carried away by the winds of time. How is it that we can forget the faces of the ones we love? Maybe we remember things based on where we are emotionally speaking. After having time to process things and think them over, we allow ourselves to see more of what was truly happening at that moment that we weren't willing to look at within our strong emotional state. Sometimes our minds wipe memories away like a wave pulling a sandcastle into the sea. The memories remain but are unintelligible. This is a form of self-preservation.
"My Darkroom Is Filled With Light"
Excitement stirred in my chest as I opened up an old dusty box to reveal a camera of old. The more I looked around me the more I found. Dusty hardcover books were grouped with torn softcover books among fabrics that didn't seem to belong together. The sunlight seems to reveal a decay that had begun long ago from heat and time among other things. Mixed in among the weathered old photographs, the single baby shoe, disintegrating newspaper articles, and dilapidated dolls there they were. It was like opening a treasure chest. Only these treasures were better because they belonged to my ancestors. I could not find the significance of some of those treasures, but I recognized the value in others. Another one of the treasures I recognized among the items was a brilliant baby blue typewriter.