Creative folk bounce in and out of one another’s lives: sometimes collaborating, sometimes revelling in symbiosis, and sometimes breaking one another’s hearts to discover new building materials.
And so, when Claude left Nancy, there came to be a trail of red paint on the carpet from the kitchen to the front porch, all the way out to where his beat-up hatchback had once stayed. Artists don’t like to walk around the outside of houses. Given the option of using a path or pulling waves through the floorboards to walk upon, they’ll go for impact every time. Luckily Nancy, being a musician, decided she quite liked the sound of the stain once it had soaked in. When she put her ear to it, it sung in mysterious tones; like sunlight hitting the moon. All through the winter she hummed along, accompanied by the new rhythm of her aching heart.
She was still humming it when she met Terence by the pond the following March. He was photographing the surface of the water: not the water itself, he stressed, just the surface. He was endlessly fascinated by surfaces of all natures, and fancied if their essences could only be isolated then our understanding of beauty would improve threefold.
Terence moved in with Nancy the very next week, and he covered her walls with home-developed photographs in black and white. Images of pavements overlapped with images of skin overlapped with images of the sea; all of them, he claimed, depicted something identical. He stuck them over, under and around the curly letters Stephanie had written a year before, making a brand new dancing visual poetry of the house. Nancy had a different tune then, and she hummed it with her fingers upon ivory keys. It still had remnants of the dried red paint, but this time against a quickened heartbeat, and with a distinctive smattering of surface qualia.
*****
Fragments of Perception and Other Stories is available now in paperback and ebook! Visit my books page to find out how to get your copy.
Nicely penned. I may have been displeased at thr covering of my letters. They obviously complimented and suited each other.
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Thank you 😊
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Somehow Terence reminds me of Jackson Pollock. It’s just what came to mind as I read. Have enjoyed this very much.
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Thank you, I’m really pleased you enjoyed it 😊
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You definitely burst with ideas. Where do these thoughts originate, one wonders? Very entertaining, stretching the fabric of consciousness.
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Thank you so much! I tend to think in abstract terms so everything just becomes an elaborate metaphor 😁
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Ha ha! “An elaborate metaphor”. I like that.
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How wonderful that your seemingly endless reservoir of brilliance wasn’t extinguished by the publication of a book full of it! This was just so damn good. When I was recently asked to name my favorite author in one of those blog award things, I should have listed you or at the very least given you honorable mention. You make the profound so very beautiful.
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Thank you, Paul 😊
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Caroline, this is too brilliant for my words so I will say only one…wow. I am going to buy your book right now, can’t wait to read it!
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Wow thank you so much, Tanya! 😊
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Beautiful and image-full writing style. Thank you.
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Thank you so much 😊
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Reblogged this on jimmi campkin.
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Thank you ☺
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Thank *you*
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