"Birds believe I am a flower when I lie in the hammock".
I just wrote it on my Twitter. I want it here too. Silly attempt to paralyse the moment. But still.
I am thrilled and battle to play the birds' game, not unaware, never seen an unaware bird, the wings are wings and antennae, but careless, it's all about pretense. So I pretend that I'm deeply engrossed by my chapter 14. I'm good at it. They come so close.
Even a hummingbird accepts me as flower among birds.
I wouldn't dare to use it for my prose. Am I wrong? Doesn't it tempt the limit of sentimentality as paragraph on page 98 in a novel?
No comments:
Post a Comment