iPhone 8, Lightleap
Rainy Night
Dark, wet, scary The world outside quivers Raindrops above our heads Two umbrellas black We sit on wet earth The world darkens One umbrella leaves One umbrella alone Crickets quiet Cicadas chirp and flee One umbrella returns Two umbrellas moving Across the rainy night
Thunder
A violent thunderstorm shakes Leanne to her core Crack! Boom! Lightning and thunder raged throughout the storm. Leanne clutched onto her teddy bear as tightly as possible and looked out of the window from the couch in the living room, a blanket wrapped around her entire body, watching as the rain poured down so hard it made the pond splash into endless waves. The large trees (the ones which Leanne’s mother had joked about, saying they were so tall they could reach the heavens) swayed to the movement of the rain. The garden of daisies (still wilting and gray) that Leanne’s mother had planted a while back were drowning in the endless flow of the rainfall. “Now now, dear. Don’t be in such a hurry to hide,” Mother said while lighting a candle. The power had gone out not too long ago, and probably wouldn’t be coming back on anytime soon. “It’s scary, Mother,” Leanne whispered. “Will the storm pass soon?” Mother got up from the kitchen stool and closed the curtains instead of answering the question. The hills and the pond hid behind the curtains along with the thunder and rain. “How about a story, Leanne,” Mother said. “One about snakes and flamingos and elephants!” “No. Snakes are scary, and flamingos don’t do anything exciting—all they do is stand on one leg,” Leanne huffed. “And elephants remind me of the thunder.” Mother sighed. She was obviously displeased by her daughter’s stubbornness. “Why don’t we play a game?” Mother suggested just as another crack of thunder burst into Leanne’s ears, making her shake from head to toe. “What about bingo? Or checkers?” Mother continued. Leanne shook her head. Nothing could distract her from the terrible storm outside. Mother sighed. “Oh, darling. There really is nothing to be afraid of,” she insisted. Leanne continued to sit still on the couch, the blanket covering her head, but not her face. Mother frowned and sat on the couch with Leanne. “How about this?” Mother reasoned. “We confess to everything that scares us and why. Would that make you feel better?” Pondering what her mother had said, Leanne sat silently for a few moments. She nodded her head. “Alright,” Mother said. “I am afraid of dogs.” Leanne couldn’t help but laugh. “Dogs? Why?” “Because they have large teeth and can bite people!” Mother replied anxiously. “Now, what are you afraid of?” Light from Behind Outside, Leanne heard another booming noise. The thunder was getting louder. She sighed. “I’m afraid of thunder,” Leanne spilled, “because it’s loud and frightening. And it usually comes with lightning, which can kill you. Also, it’s really quite loud. Did I say that already?” Mother burst into laughter. “I used to be afraid of thunder as well at your age,” she admitted. Leanne was shocked. She didn’t think that her own mother would be afraid of thunder. Or dogs, for that matter. “Just remember this—as long as there is thunder, there is rain. The rain helps the flowers grow. Once the flowers grow nice and tall, they become beautiful. And besides, as long as you’re safe and sound inside, you can’t be hit by lightning.” Leanne started fiddling with her thumbs. The thunder was getting softer. “The fireworks that we watch every Fourth of July are much louder than the thunder you hear,” Mother said. “You enjoy the fireworks. However, you don’t seem to enjoy the thunder.” Leanne turned red. And the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. The rain grew softer as Leanne felt growing courage spread throughout her body. “I guess maybe it isn’t that bad after all.” Mother smiled. “Let’s open the curtains and see.” Mother took Leanne’s hand, and together they got up from the couch and trotted over to the window. With her other hand, Mother opened the curtains to reveal the world outside. The storm was dying down. It was surprisingly soothing. The thunder now sounded like a stampede of elephants running off into the distance. Leanne smiled a bit. The elephants were soon long gone. Leanne looked down at the garden below. Beautiful flowers were beginning to sprout. Perhaps thunder isn’t as bad as I thought, Leanne pondered. Together, she and her mother stared in awe out the window. Birds were flying through the air, singing their song. The trees, which had been moving to the wind of the storm, were now at a steady resting position. The sun peeked out of the clouds, though it was still raining outside. A rainbow was beginning to form, as the sound of thunder had completely disappeared, leaving Leanne nothing but her new, full courage.
Light from Behind
iPhone 8
Perspective
Rainbow Duck Ducks aren’t beautiful They aren’t even pretty Yet when you look at a duck Your mind feels at rest You feel content Like you are in a trance But in reality You are just amazed At how serene the duck is You can’t tell what made you Stop and stare so you move on But there is a flicker of envy In your heart because You truly wish you could be As composed as that duck You shake your head At the thought and walk on Who could be jealous of An ugly duckling? Yet in the right perspective You are the ugly duckling And the duck is the graceful swan.
Rainbow Duck
Oil
Trapped
Stuck on a ride at an indoor water park, the narrator panics “Fine! Let’s just get it over with.” I let out a sigh as I listlessly dragged my body toward the slide. It was a cold, unforgiving winter day five years ago. My sister, two friends, and I were at an indoor water park at Great Wolf’s Lodge somewhere in Pennsylvania, voting on which slide should end our little adventure. I had voted against a daunting and unnerving slide named “Twist & Turns,” which I absolutely loathed because of my nyctophobia, but everybody else wanted to give it a try due to its engrossing appearance. My redundant protests went unnoticed, and I felt trapped. But with no other choice, I just went with the flow. As we settled into our raft, I shut my eyes, not wanting to see the darkness swallow me up. It had only been a few seconds, but I was already sweating profusely, despite the cool air that drifted through the tunnel. Emotions violently swirled around inside me while the raft swayed gently. Expecting to plunge into the next section, I squeezed the handles tightly. But . . . nothing happened. There was no swoosh accompanied with a floating sensation, nor was there a splash followed by the shaking of the raft. Huh? I thought. What’s happening? I opened my eyes and blinked. It was completely dark except for some muted shades of purple around us. If not for the sloshing sound of water and our breaths, time might as well have stopped. No, we had stopped. Trying to calculate what was going on, my mind ran wild attempting to come up with possible answers to this predicament. “Are we stuck?” someone called out. Probably, I thought. We reached over the raft and tried to push the walls, which was futile, since, except for some water getting splashed around, nothing happened. We screamed for help, hoping for someone to hear us. During the mayhem, my mind raced, imagining all sorts of scenarios: the lifeguards using extensions, someone coming down to push us, even getting out of the raft. But nothing happened. If only I could share how I felt: stuck, boxed in, trapped with nowhere to go, with desperate screams serving as my only solace. I was only seven that year, so I felt extremely hopeless and frantic. I felt lost as I clawed the edges of my rationality to stay sane, to devise a way out. There must be a way, some way, for us to escape. At the precipice of giving up, a thought floated into my consciousness in the midst of the turmoil; it whispered to me a path, a way out. “Hey, how about we shake together?” I spoke up. I heard a ripple of murmurs of agreement, along with some invisible nods of consensus. Three, Two, One! Slowly, amidst the silent tension, the sound of rubber on plastic could be heard. And we slowly relaxed our bodies as the raft made a small woosh and fell down into darkness. It worked! We were free! Sighing in relief, I leaned back and enjoyed the rest of the ride. After all, moving is much better than not moving. Still a bit fearful of pausing midway in some other awkward place, we smoothly glided along the current until we saw the light at the end of the slide.
On the Road, Dreaming of a Garden
Driving in a rented car We stop for a second I observe the diamond Tessellation on a fence I look at the one-way sign Then turn my head I see bricks And yellow paint And beautiful Pink, purple and white Flowers I see green And four trees And yellow flowers I close my eyes And think about The move And how Our new house Might have a Roof garden I will plant Roses and shrubs, Broccoli, celery, Tulips and proteas Orchids and hibiscuses Spinach, mint, dandelions Rosemary, garlic and Onions and thyme There will be Tomatoes and Potatoes and Lilies and buttercups I blink my eyes and I’m no longer in my garden I’m in a tunnel I watch the white And blue and yellow Go flashing by I think of blue proteas, Yellow buttercups, White roses, Chicory Then I’m back In my garden I sit down Among the plants and Read my favorite book
Questions about The Banks of the Loire
The Sunset Stream of consciousness— What is a stream of consciousness? Does it flow like the Loire In J. M.W. Turner’s painting? Is it a river of thoughts? Is it the blue of the sky Reflective like the water Or the pure white of the clouds on the canvas? How do we think? Why do we think? What is thinking? Am I thinking right now? How is thinking possible? Why did Descartes say “I think, therefore I am?” Do we have to think to be? Do plants think? Why am I having a stream of consciousness About a stream of consciousness? What is the meaning of consciousness? Why does the world exist? Why does the universe exist? If something created the world How did that something get created? Why is it possible to exist? Can anything come from nothing? But if it can’t How did anything get started? Has anything existed forever? What happened before the Big Bang? Did the Big Bang happen? Is the simulation theory right? Am I part of a computer or am I real? Is anyone real? But if no one is real Who made the simulation? Why am I thinking about this? Why am I even thinking? Am I thinking in circles? What is a circle? Was Plato right about the world of ideas Where a perfect circle exists As the starting point for all other circles Like a circular cookie cutter? What is the meaning of life? Why? When? Where? What? Who? How? Why do I have so many questions? What’s knowledge? What is anything? Who am I? What am I? When am I? Where am I? Why am I? How am I? What? Am I? What’s going on? What’s not going on? When J. M.W. Turner painted The Banks of the Loire Did he create a parallel universe Where the girl staring at the river wonders If her consciousness flows like a stream? What are questions?
The Sunset
Watercolor, crayon, chalk
The Escalofriante Hotel
Winnie and her mom check into a hotel where all is not as it seems Waiting. Winnie and her mom had finished checking in their car at the Escalofriante Hotel valet twenty minutes ago, and now Winnie was in the lobby. Hotel check-ins were so slow. Where was her mom? She looked around the hotel lobby. Old people were sitting in swirly chairs. The carpet was the hard kind that parents don’t care about you stepping on with shoes. All the old people were wearing small, fragile glasses. “Strange,” she whispered to herself. “Hi!” Winnie looked up to see a blonde front desk lady standing in front of her. She had on bright red lipstick. Her voice was sickeningly sweet. Winne made a face at her. Like she smelt something bad. “Are you lost?” the lady asked. “No, I’m looking for my mom.” Winnie read the lady’s name tag. It read Jessica. “I’m Jessica!” said Jessica, handing her the keys to her room. “Do you want a Merry-Berry lollipop?” “No, thank you.” Winnie took the keys and put them in her pocket and backed away from the lady. Winnie was still on the hunt for her mom. She stopped in front of a row of TVs. Boring. Nothing good was playing, and in fact, the screen was black. Then she noticed that all of the old people were watching the black TVs. A shiver ran down her back. In the elevator, Winnie waited as the numbers went from the first floor to the second floor to the fifth floor and the eighth floor. Suddenly it stopped, not helping Winnie’s nerves. The rusty door creaked open, and an old man got in. He was wearing the same glasses as all the other elders. As the rusty doors closed her in, Winnie held her breath. The old man peered down at her. “My, where are your glasses?” He squinted at her. Glimmer “I don’t wear glasses.” Winnie turned away from him and stared at the elevator wall. On it, there was a window that let you see all the cords and cables holding the elevator up. Ding! The elevator stopped, and Winnie slipped out, grateful to be away from the man. She hurried to find door 1013. She reached for the three keys, safe in her pocket, and stared at them, longing to be a key safe in someone’s pocket. She tried each of the keys, the first two failing. The last key was a brass one with swirls on top, and she tried it. The lock clicked and the door swung open. Winnie gasped. Instead of a room, there was a cavern that looked similar to the elevator shaft. Winnie didn’t run or go hide in a corner. Instead, she just calmly closed the door and headed for the elevator. At the front desk, Jessica was on the phone, blabbing away to someone named Chrissy. Winnie cleared her throat with an ahem and waited. Jessica turned to look at her. “What?” she asked. “I was wondering if I could have a pair of glasses.” Winnie stood on her toes to see eye to eye with her. “No. Those are for elders.” She turned back to the phone. Quick as she could, Winnie ducked behind the front desk. At last she found a pair of glasses and ran, fumbling to put them on. Now the TV had a cooking show on it, and the elevator wasn’t as old as it looked. As she looked around the room, she noticed that the “elders” were young teens, and the man from the elevator was now a little boy. She pressed the “Floor 10” button and rode up to her room. Opening the door to her room, what had looked like an elevator shaft had now turned into a beautiful suite! She flung herself into it, her eye catching a brown trapdoor on the floor of the bedroom. She opened it and found her mom. She looked tired. “Winnie!” she called. “Don’t worry, Mom! I’ll get you out of there!” Winnie reached for the bed covers and thrust them down to her mom. She grabbed them, and Winnie pulled her up. “Let’s go, Mom. I don’t think that this hotel will work for us.” Together, they walked out of the door, down the elevator, and through the front doors, not looking back once.
Glimmer
Panasonic ZS200