February’s thoughts were on movement. How can we show movement in our artwork? Lines, shapes and objects, and colors.
Our Writing/Poetry Prompt – What moves or motivates you?
Sitting in a sluggish mound
Of opaque disconnection,
My body waits
For a spark,
For motivation to shine through
To animate my mind,
The source is a kindled ember.
The light ignites me in a blaze.
In the dismal dark,
Seeking from a far horizon
Needling through the stifling murk
To jab me into action.
— Nick Pentzell (2021)
Lori’s Quiet Day
It was, Lori decided, a perfect day for sleeping in, followed by taking a long, hot shower, making and lingering over an overstuffed golden brown grilled cheese sandwich with a slice of tomato, washing that down with a tall glass of iced Earl Grey tea and accomplishing very little else of consequence. As she closed her eyes and felt the shower water trickle down her back, she smiled to herself contemplating the day ahead. She didn’t usually care for cloudy, windy, rainy days, but that was because she so often had to be out in the weather. Today, the idea that whatever it chose to do outside would be happening while she was warm and dry in her cozy studio apartment made her actually look forward to the hours ahead.
After she had finally finished her brunch and was standing at the kitchen sink washing her few dishes, her peaceful, contemplative mood suddenly switched to a grumpy, irritated one as she heard her neighbor’s distinctly cheerful tap on her door. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Annabelle (or “Bella”, as she preferred to be called since finding out that she had Italian ancestry), but she really had been looking forward to having a “me day” today, and Bella was not the type to sit quietly and enjoy the rain, a good book, or much else besides pop music, soap operas and gossip about her co-workers, her family, and celebrities.
Sighing and trying to rearrange her face into its best and most convincing “glad-to-see-you-but-I-really-do-have-plans-for-today” expression, Lori grabbed a dish towel off the rack beside the sink and dried her hands as she went to open the door, hopeful that although the door was not locked, going to it and opening it herself rather than just calling out “Come in!” might forestall Bella before she could get inside. “Hey, girl!” she said, standing in the doorway, carefully moderating both her smile and her tone of voice to prevent either from coming across as too enthusiastic. She silently patted herself on the back that she had also chosen to remain in her nightshirt and bathrobe for the time being. Friendly, but not desperate for company—that was the look she was going for, and she hoped that Bella was shrewd enough to pick up on it. However, her friend crushed all such hopes with her next words.
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