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.

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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.

Separation

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How strange to be so distant,

Yet feel so close

In a one-sided love

That spans both years and moments.

Time is a fickle mistress;

For you once knew me

Like I know you,

But now we pass as strangers

On a lonely street

In the middle of the night

Alone

Confused

Pondering how and why.

But we never speak.

Our eyes meet

And we run away.