Creative writing.

So I show up to English class and our assignment for the day was to go out somewhere on campus and observe people. This is what I saw:

A light haired man leans against a wall. He is a stoic character. In his eyes it looks as though he is pondering something deep and profound. The meaning of life or the way the West was won. He moves under the awning of the building as to shield himself from the harsh heat of the sun.

He is alone. An island unto himself.

Likewise a woman sits alone on a bench. Her only friend is her phone and her cigarette. She takes deep breaths from the cigarette as though she is reuniting with a long lost lover. Her cigarette glows with the warmth and passion burning inside the two.

A girl with long blonde hair does a cartwheel for nothing but her own enjoyment. She is all alone. And in utter exhaustion or pure ecstasy she lays out on the ground. There is a couple sitting close by on a bench, a big bench. They are much too close for social acceptability. As the girl lays out on the gum stained cement they call out to her.
"Hey girl! Hey lady! You, you would did the cartwheel. Do that again!"

"Why?" she says bluntly.

"Cause that was cool. I like it. Do it again."

"Okay."

She then goes on to bigger and better things, she does a back handspring and multiple cartwheels. Her audience grows but it is clear to those who watch she is doing them no favors, she is doing this for herself. Her crowd quickly grows but much to their disappointment and pleads she says she is finished.


Two girls walk by. A perfect picture of juxtaposition. One is about 6' 2'', the other 4' 11''. One caucasian, the other Filipino. But they walk perfectly in sync. Each step matched by the other.


There are no clouds in the sky. It is perfectly blue. Nothing to interupt it's vastness. Not a bird, plane, or cloud. In between the noise of people passing and walking there is a silence. You hear a soft breeze moving trough the fingers of the trees and a soft hush as the leaves that hang upon them russle. In the midsts of concrete, brick, morter, and glass nature thrives. Ants make their way across a stretch of dirt and under a rock. Bees mingle between the flowers and even make their way over to the intruder of their parts, me. After a brief pass-by they leave me realizing I mean no harm. In the distance a lawnmower sounds. To them this is the sound of lost ground and a war cry.