*Magnify*
    May     ►
SMTWTFS
   
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
Archive RSS
SPONSORED LINKS
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/931397-why-my-life-is-a-tree-and-an-empty-bench-in-the-fog
Printer Friendly Page Tell A Friend
No ratings.
by Rhyssa
Rated: NPL · Book · Personal · #2150723
a journal
#931397 added March 24, 2018 at 2:40pm
Restrictions: None
why my life is a tree and an empty bench in the fog
Creation Saturday!!

Your blog is being turned into a book! But part of your publishing contract states that this image must be its cover. Tell us why this particular photo suits the content of your blog...convince us why this was your idea from the start; use excerpts from previous entries or comments on them if you think it'll help.

March 2018 30DBC Image Prompt

For some reason, this image makes me think of invisible or disappearance, probably because the person or people who were sitting on the bench have obviously just vanished in a puff of smoke. It’s left behind a tree with a shadow that reflects down onto the grass as though it were a lake, with twisting branches and a trunk that looks like it has baggage.

Obviously, this picture was meant to depict my life. After all, sanity has disappeared and confusion reigns like a puff of smoke or the twist of branches. I am standing there, in the shade of that tree, looking down at my life reflected in words, the shadow place in the background where everything is strange and the foreground where there’s a sharp contrast between the sunlight and the shadow. I live in both places—a world of strange connections.

If I turn my head a slightly different way, I can see the harmonica that makes up the bench. So, music is an important part of this picture. And the tree has some obvious roots that were clearly meant to be me, because I’m able to live in such fluctuation because I have roots that hold me steady like my family and the church.

In fact, the more I think about it (and write about it) the more I know (without quoting myself, which I hesitate to do because I’m writing this between the time my sister left with her kids (and rodent) to go back home and going on our own errands) that this picture was meant to be part of my blog. I think I’ll rename my blog in its honor: or at least I would if I could figure out a new title, which I hate to do because I’m really tired at the moment.

© Copyright 2018 Rhyssa (UN: sadilou at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Rhyssa has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/931397-why-my-life-is-a-tree-and-an-empty-bench-in-the-fog