This week’s photo challenge is portraying juxtaposition. I took this photo during the winter of 2012. The red really hits your eye, doesn’t it? 🙂
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Sometimes stepping out of your comfort zone is rewarding.
I recently read two books whose writing styles are quite different from the books I usually read. The first is called The Bloody Chamber by Angela Carter, which is a collection of stories. The second is Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi. In the case of the first book, I didn’t have a choice; it was part of my English course. Although the stories themselves are a little difficult for me to understand, and are not really the genre I usually read, I quite like certain aspects of the writing style. Some parts, such as the changing perspectives and tenses, are not ones that I particularly like, although I have to admit that they add to the mood of the stories. On the other hand, some of the imagery and literary devices used are powerful, and effectively add to the reader’s experience of the story.
I still remember one line from one of the stories: “Her hair falls down like tears.” I think that is one of the nicest descriptions I have ever read! In such few words, it makes me imagine hair flowing gracefully like a river, the strands running down like rivulets and falling fluidly along the back. The mention of tears also adds a melancholy to the description, and reveals a bit more about the character, while hiding just enough to keep the reader wondering. It really opened my eyes to the endless possibilities that can be used, when writing, to describe something beautifully and uniquely. There are other examples I could use, but this sentence has stuck with me since I read that particular story. Although I must say that the stories themselves are not quite my taste, the writing style itself is often beautiful, in my opinion.
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Write down the first words that comes to mind when we say . . . home. . . soil. . . rain. Use those words in the title of your post.
I love the smell of damp earth when it rains. It reminds me of a rainy afternoon I spent in an apartment we used to stay in in India. I vaguely remember a stone balcony leading off from my parents’ bedroom. It was a long balcony with potted plants, overlooking a park. It was a rainy afternoon so the ground was slippery with raindrops. It might have been monsoon, because the rain was pouring down in sheets. The sound of pattering raindrops filled my ears as I stood on the balcony, leaning against the edge, one arm reaching out to catch the raindrops. Some of the icy drops fell on my hand, drenching it within a few moments. My lungs filled with the sweet fragrance of damp soil and I remember thinking how much I liked it.
That smell takes me back home. Even when I’m walking along streets miles away from my home country, even though we have a different apartment there now, even though that rainy afternoon was years ago and I barely remember it, the scent reminds me of that day once in a while, reminds me that I can still find a little piece of my home country from time to time, even if I am physically far away from it.
P.S. I know I’m a day late with this! But this has been my situation for the last few days…