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THE WORLD IS WAITING;
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INTERESTS
| Art: | Knitting |
EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY
Fionahh. 
Please stop me before I jump for nothing:
There I sat on the firm ground painted with leaves of which I could not tell their past. A curious assortment of reds, yellows, and the odd vibrant orange lay beneath me, yet with the seemingly repetitive motion of sight, I was not easily amused. The sun was setting and I was alone with nothing but distorted twigs to keep me distracted. Interlocking thoughts of questions and doors only one person had the answers and keys to. Although I knew the blunt objects were there, somehow, at some point they had vanished. I am still contemplating the truth of whether the twigs were meant to steal my attention or not. However, if they were, why were they gone at a second glance? I could convince myself that the engrossing simplicity of the twigs corresponded to the situation I have come up against in my mind. On the other hand, the sensible, yet not as adventurous approach would to be that I was confused and had simply imagined the twigs slithering up through the maze of the unknown; That what I was seeing, or not seeing, was of false reality. Either way, at the current moment I am trapped in solitude and am unsure of what my heart demands. Should I tear open a gap in the camouflage tapestry I am so gently covered in? Again and again I ask what the point is in sheltering myself if I am unaware of what I am hiding from...
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Please stop me before I jump for nothing:
There I sat on the firm ground painted with leaves of which I could not tell their past. A curious assortment of reds, yellows, and the odd vibrant orange lay beneath me, yet with the seemingly repetitive motion of sight, I was not easily amused. The sun was setting and I was alone with nothing but distorted twigs to keep me distracted. Interlocking thoughts of questions and doors only one person had the answers and keys to. Although I knew the blunt objects were there, somehow, at some point they had vanished. I am still contemplating the truth of whether the twigs were meant to steal my attention or not. However, if they were, why were they gone at a second glance? I could convince myself that the engrossing simplicity of the twigs corresponded to the situation I have come up against in my mind. On the other hand, the sensible, yet not as adventurous approach would to be that I was confused and had simply imagined the twigs slithering up through the maze of the unknown; That what I was seeing, or not seeing, was of false reality. Either way, at the current moment I am trapped in solitude and am unsure of what my heart demands. Should I tear open a gap in the camouflage tapestry I am so gently covered in? Again and again I ask what the point is in sheltering myself if I am unaware of what I am hiding from...
