Between Skies

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Blue.

The color of our planet from the sky. It is the color of Earth even when we can still pick out the reds of the soil and the green of the trees.

Blue.

It is the part of the sky beneath the clouds, that little pocket air sandwiched between those masses of white and the ground. If you squint, the blue planet looks like another sky, a real sky. That sky is the kind of blue that shocks you with the thrill of eternity and solitude. This ride is a journey that goes on and on. Who’s to say when it will end?

Blue.

As the clouds draw closer together, blanketing the blue earth-sky, the blue cracks the white surface. The clouds become an Earth, an endless tundra of wind and sunlight. White mountains rise in the distance. They are soft, not jagged like the mountains of the earth-sky. Scattered across the tundra, the blue lakes and rivers change the skyscape into a sea dotted with icebergs. The soft mountains float effortlessly across the earth-sky.

Continue reading “Between Skies”

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10 Interesting Myths about William Shakespeare

Ten common misconceptions about Shakespeare As this Saturday sees the 400-year anniversary of William Shakespeare‘s death, we thought we’d turn our attention to the Bard and the numerous myths that have grown up around his life and work. Here are ten of our favourites. As with many of the details of Shakespeare’s life we cannot […]

http://interestingliterature.com/2016/04/20/10-interesting-myths-about-william-shakespeare/

As Seasons Change

024a4f8c062a35a8b735540cdd61317bAutumn.

The third season of the year, when crops and fruits are gathered and leaves fall.

“…the year’s last, loveliest smile.”

Autumn.

Nostalgia.

Memory.

3d453968807022e3a09020d9ceed06b7Winter.

The coldest season of the year.

“It was magical, this snow globe world.”

Winter.

Silence.

Shadow.

d81fcff79df385ec65f839790f3dcb10Spring.

The season after winter and before summer, in which vegetation begins to appear.

“It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine…”

Spring.

Breath.

Awakening.

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERASummer.

The warmest season of the year.

“It was June, and the world smelled of roses.”

Summer.

Beginning.

Running.

Sehnsucht

By Julia Koslowsky
10/9/15

It was cloudy and warm outside.  She would have preferred a cold rain, but cloudy was good enough.  It was good writing weather, except for the fact that she had writer’s block.  All writers hit it at one point or another, but that didn’t make it any less frustrating.  Thankfully, the atmosphere was full of inspiration.

The coffee shop radiated life and contentment, though only a few people sat inside.

Yes, rain would make this even better.

The rich aroma of coffee, the tangy smell of tea, the crisp sweetness of pastries filled the air.  She paused, looking up from the blank document on her laptop.  Everything in this place had a story.  There were so many stories that it was almost distracting.

The posters of music gigs and events plastered on the wall by the bathrooms.

The professors working on papers or research behind her.

The two men going over and editing a paper together.

The newspapers scattered over a few tables.

The regulars (mostly hipsters) doing whatever they usually did.

The two little old men catching up over coffee beside her.

That last one was the most interesting.  She turned her attention to the two men and watched as they rose from their seats.  One was tall and thin, the other short and bent.  Both wore glasses and the short man wore a baseball cap.  Having finished their coffees, they hobbled over to the counter buy themselves a scone for the road.  They continued to talk, debating which pastry to buy, laughing with the cashier.  She watched as they thanked the baristas and left the coffee shop.  Outside, they shook hands warmly, the short man tipping his cap.  Then they parted ways.

Suddenly overcome with nostalgia, she looked away from the window.  It was such a simple meeting.  It wasn’t even out of place or time, but something about it prodded her soul.

People aren’t like that anymore.

It wasn’t that people didn’t meet for coffee to catch up.  People did that all the time.  Maybe it was their age, that sweet simplicity that came from bygone decades.  Maybe it was the fact that all they did was drink coffee and interact.  No phones, no break in the conversation, no distraction.

She sighed and sipped her tea.

What a world it would be, if every conversation could be like theirs.  Happy, serious, totally focused on the other, just enjoying each other’s friendship and company.

The thought made her smile, and the coffee shop felt cozier.

She knew what to write about now.