Another addition to my story if you care to read, though I'm sure you won't based on the last post...
She smiled as she leaned back to stretch her body out in the still night air and continued on her seaward path. A gentle roll over onto her stomach allowed her to look down upon the city below to examine the happenings of the night. The city seemed dead at first, the streets vacant and lifeless, but as she began to cross over the citys center the scene below became illuminated with various colours and shapes around the sculpture in the town square. Small swirls of yellow and orange colours showed where the streetlights emitted their effervescence. Blurred dark shapes moved about in rhythmic harmony to some fast paced music that was out of audible range. In the glow of the lights she could see the movement of laughter from the people below; though she couldnt make out any of their features. She had now become enveloped in the great impressionist painting she had been viewing from her window. When she escaped the city and looked down again, she was over the ocean and could see her reflection in the dark water below. More shocking than all the events she had been experiencing and witnessing was that she appeared to be part of this masterpiece as well. Her features had softened and the contours of her body became just groupings of shape and colour. She could no longer make out the expression on her face, all she saw was dark spots where her eyes and mouth were, and bright specks of light in the middle of her eyes where the brilliant moonlight reflected back out. The absurdity of her appearance made her laugh to herself, but that same time she couldnt help but feel taken aback by the beauty of it. It was as if when all the details were removed from the images she saw, she could finally see them as they were meant to be. Now she finally realized that though the fine details do much to accentuate the things she saw, the colours and shapes underneath those details are what make them beautiful. In some ways the detailed edges of refinement of this raw paint scheme hinder its ability to express itself. They confine the colours into concentric shapes and trap them inside walls not allowing them to affect their surroundings, to blend seamlessly into the background. What an atrocity it is to confine the artwork of the cosmos! To limit the expression of billions of billions of billions of sub-atomic particles swirling about at incredible speeds because of the will of the strings that guide them on there course, what kind of creature could think of such a thing! Yet there in lies the problem. It is the human mind that builds these ramparts. The brain searches for edges to every shape, a beginning and an end, without these limits a human brain would cease to function.
She smiled as she leaned back to stretch her body out in the still night air and continued on her seaward path. A gentle roll over onto her stomach allowed her to look down upon the city below to examine the happenings of the night. The city seemed dead at first, the streets vacant and lifeless, but as she began to cross over the citys center the scene below became illuminated with various colours and shapes around the sculpture in the town square. Small swirls of yellow and orange colours showed where the streetlights emitted their effervescence. Blurred dark shapes moved about in rhythmic harmony to some fast paced music that was out of audible range. In the glow of the lights she could see the movement of laughter from the people below; though she couldnt make out any of their features. She had now become enveloped in the great impressionist painting she had been viewing from her window. When she escaped the city and looked down again, she was over the ocean and could see her reflection in the dark water below. More shocking than all the events she had been experiencing and witnessing was that she appeared to be part of this masterpiece as well. Her features had softened and the contours of her body became just groupings of shape and colour. She could no longer make out the expression on her face, all she saw was dark spots where her eyes and mouth were, and bright specks of light in the middle of her eyes where the brilliant moonlight reflected back out. The absurdity of her appearance made her laugh to herself, but that same time she couldnt help but feel taken aback by the beauty of it. It was as if when all the details were removed from the images she saw, she could finally see them as they were meant to be. Now she finally realized that though the fine details do much to accentuate the things she saw, the colours and shapes underneath those details are what make them beautiful. In some ways the detailed edges of refinement of this raw paint scheme hinder its ability to express itself. They confine the colours into concentric shapes and trap them inside walls not allowing them to affect their surroundings, to blend seamlessly into the background. What an atrocity it is to confine the artwork of the cosmos! To limit the expression of billions of billions of billions of sub-atomic particles swirling about at incredible speeds because of the will of the strings that guide them on there course, what kind of creature could think of such a thing! Yet there in lies the problem. It is the human mind that builds these ramparts. The brain searches for edges to every shape, a beginning and an end, without these limits a human brain would cease to function.