I am the stranger who cried at the dead end. The bastard of the blue mood reeled me in, and to its will, I succumbed. It was not vile nor beautiful, not passionate nor present. It was blue ‘fore the sky granted its sight on the white sphere. Nothing ever more dumb and meaningless, yet I stood for no laughs. I cackled not at the earth's attempt to trip me or the wind's nips of frost. I shuttered not at the distance and depth my eyes attempted to deceive me with. There was no remorse for the barren land mother nature left in wake. and when the pinks and blues mixed together there was no faith or hope Only fear, petrification. At this, I found clarity, At this, I laughed. I cried at the dead end, and may God forgive me for wanting to do it again.
To walk the reader through the development of “The Blue Book” would, quite frankly, be ironic. The concept stemmed from a long walk on a cold winter day. It tackles the independence of the natural environment and the emotions that, when invoked, create a masterful path to gaining insight into oneself. I came across several edits portraying the surrounding nature and its beauty. By developing a collection of both the longstanding conditions and the-in relation to the entirety of the cosmos- short standing events of my life I developed a piece to write myself into the entities of the natural world.
Yasmin is a full-time NYC student completing school work, catching up with friends and studying. When she has the time,…
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