Making her mark //

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Quietly, she laid down her belongings and sat by the water’s edge.

She was a curious figure, clad in all black except for the flashes of green coming from her scarf and from the pen she used to finish writing a letter she would never send.

When she woke up this morning, she had no idea she would be here, staring out into the lake but the day’s events compelled her to find the calm she so desperately sought.

So off to the water she went.

The ripples on the water’s surface always found a way to soothe her. The uniformity of it all was mesmerizing but she knew that, just like life, nothing was entirely as it seemed on the surface.

Fueled by energy from the wind, the ripples left their mark on the water’s surface. Each ripple blended carefully into the next but each one was unique in its beauty. A mix of jealousy and awe filled her soul. 

She stayed for a bit thinking about everyone that passed her as she watched the water. Who were they? What force of energy brought them here? She thought about this until she could think no longer.

Slowly, she packed up her things, slipped the letter she was writing into her jacket pocket, and disappeared.

As she walked, her soft movements travelled through the air and across the water’s surface and, for a moment, sped up the flow of ripples on the lake.

196 Possibilities //

196 Possibilities //

I breathe in and open my eyes.

I’m on top of a hill somewhere in the English countryside.

I feel the lush green grass beneath my bare feet and as I look off into the distance, I see the breathtaking view of rolling hills. There is a slight breeze but I can still feel the heat of the sun beating down on me. The heavenly scent of rain on the earth tickles my nose one last time before I return.

I breathe out.

I breathe in and open my eyes.

I am surrounded by the sound of rush hour traffic.

Cars honk up and down the street while pedestrians dash across the sidewalk. As I walk to the side of the intersection, I stop to watch a man strumming on a guitar and singing a song. The tune sounds vaguely familiar which might be why a crowd has formed and people begin humming along. I drop off some change into the guitar case in front of him and turn back to the road. I see bumper to bumper traffic with the yellow cabs distinctive of New York scattered throughout. The sights and sounds of the mid-afternoon summer commute leave me feeling breathless.

I breathe out.

I breathe in and open my eyes.

I reach up over my head and I touch the low hanging leaves of the Amazon.

The humidity hangs in the air and I feel its constant presence on my skin as I walk across the forest floor. I hear the lovely song of a bird up above and as I look up in search of it, I am greeted by a small kinkajou that’s sticking his long tongue at me. We stare at each other for a little bit longer before he scurries off into the forest. I run my hand across a moss covered rock and take in the warmth and beauty of this rainforest.

I breathe out.

I breathe in and open my eyes.

I am suddenly overcome by the rich scents from the spice stalls in Marrakesh.

The powerful smell and breathtaking colours of cumin and paprika excites my senses. My eyes hungrily take in the bright fuchsias, electric blues, and royal purples that surround me. All of a sudden the strong smells, beautiful sights, and hushed conversations amplify and I am swept up by the intensity of it all. I spin and spin and spin. Colours whirl together before my eyes and my ears pick up a mixture of conversations in English, French, and Arabic. I reach out to touch the leather hanging in one of the tanneries and— “Hurry! Sawyer is coming.”

I am called back to the real world by the rushed warning of one of my colleagues. He’s tapping me on the shoulder while straightening his dark blue tie. I rapidly exhale and with a jolt I stand up and start fixing the stacks of paper that litter my desk.

“Good morning.” Sawyer says to us as he makes his way to his office.

I hear my co-worker breathe a sigh of relief before relaxing back into his chair. He swivels his chair around to face me and says, “That was a close one. Next time, will you please give me a warning when you go off into your head?” I thank him for alerting me and settle back into my corner cubicle.

I unlock the cabinet to the right of my desk and rummage around until my fingers locate the piece of paper I was looking for. I pull out the tattered map. I find England, the United States of America, Brazil, and Morocco on the map and mark a huge ‘X’ over these countries. I hold the map at arm’s length and smile as I realize I only have a handful of countries to visit. I do a quick mental count and mark the date and 146/196 on the bottom right hand corner. I place the map back in the cabinet, lock the door and get back to work. My memories of the days travels keeps me going until I leave the office later that night.

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Hi everyone! This concludes my three-part series of short stories. I had fun rediscovering these old shorts I wrote and I hope you enjoyed reading them! If you haven’t already, please make sure to check out the first and second stories of this series, “Table for 2” and Sweet Viola’s Post Office. Now, back to the regularly scheduled programming aka my film photography posts! 

A stroll through… Port Credit //

I love water.

It’s calm and powerful all at the same time and visiting the waterfront is one of my favourite things to do. I’m lucky to live near enough to the waterfront that I can have a mini-escape from my day if it gets too hectic and just b r e a t h e .

On this visit, I discovered a new area that is even more secluded and peaceful. Here are some shots of one of my favourite places in the world.