Brand new picture it & write post for this week! Join in and show off your creative skill. Can you write a paragraph-long story or short poem? Click and share your skills with the Ermiliablog community!
Anja tapped her pen against the desk impatiently. Only one hour had passed since she had started work. The expansive office was too cold for her liking, the dumbstruck fish in the aquarium continued to ogle at her and her useless colleague was always asking for help. A fish in the aquarium caught her eye, it was not moving but instead staring, or appeared to do so. Was this the height of her career, staring at a fish? Those big, ambitious and naive plans of the 20-something year old she used to be had been punctured long ago, the remnants leaking disappointment. Pathetically, she could see herself in that dumbstruck fish. She blinked and lost sight of the fish that had first caught her eye, they all looked the same and she could not distinguish one from the other. Desperately she searched, her eyes burned with tears, had she too been swept away as a nobody?
“With me, the present is forever, and forever is always shifting, flowing, melting. This second is life. And when it is gone it is dead. But you can’t start over with each new second. You have to judge by what is dead. It’s like quicksand… hopeless from the start. A story, a picture, can renew sensation a little, but not enough, not enough. Nothing is real except the present, and already, I feel the weight of centuries smothering me. Some girl a hundred years ago once lived as I do. And she is dead. I am the present, but I know I, too, will pass. The high moment, the burning flash, come and are gone, continuous quicksand. And I don’t want to die.”—Sylvia Plath (via sweetannasour)