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Archive for the ‘Poetic prose’ Category

Meihouman waterfall 2:36 pm

In Place description, Poetic prose, Writing on 2017/10/01 at 15:47

It’s the type of waterfall you might read about in an adventure novel or see in an Indiana Jones movie; the stream goes tumbling over the edge some twenty or thirty meters above the valley, twisting and turning in the air then hitting a large rock at the bottom, sending plumes of spray high into the air. The sound is like that of torrential rain or a faucet opened at maximum, the rush as the water falls through the air and the deep booming when it hits the bottom. The day is still yet here at the fall the rush of the water causes a cool breeze to blow.  The spray is caught by the breeze and spreads out like a thin mist, creating a kind of natural air condition for us as we sit here on a large boulder looking up at the fall. The sun catches in the mist, forming a rainbow that hangs in the air above the pool of clear blue water and dark boulders. I let my gaze wander upwards along the smooth wet cliff face, only a few cracks running across its surface, to green canopy above and the blue sky in the gap over the river. The water that comes tumbling over the edge flows and billows in the breeze, like a cloud of smoke on a windy day, the movement is almost mesmerizing. I remain seated on my boulder for a few minutes, a feeling of contentment inside me.

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Sanming Road, 10:10pm

In Poetic prose, Writing on 2016/09/26 at 14:43

A typhoon is approaching, it was raining cats and dogs earlier but by now it has calmed down and it’s no longer  so bad that it’s an excuse for shirking my exercise routine. The foul weather is keeping all the other schmucks indoors so at least there aren’t any onlookers or stragglers , but I was hoping it would be windy enough to keep me cool; I was wrong, thanks to my Swedish genome I am sweating in the rain. I swat at the dripping leaves as I run by, hoping the spray will cool me off but to no avail, the releife is just temporary. The only result is that I can no longer tell if it is the rain or the sweat that keeps my soaked shirt clinging to my body.

Fuguo road, 6:11 pm.

In Poetic prose, Writing on 2016/06/28 at 10:57

Big drops are falling from a leaden sky, pitter patterning against the visor of my helmet. The low clouds have made the backstreets of my even commute even more dull than normal,  nothing but wet asphalt and grey buildings all the way. I mount the steep slope of the bridge across the highway, and just as I reach the crest, the world opens up in front of me. In the distance, visible only because the rain has cleared away the smog of the city, I can see the mountains; layers upon layers of ever darkening shades of green against the backdrop of the sky tainted faintly yellow by the setting sun. It lasts but a moment before the road slopes downward again, bringing me back down below the clouds.

Niseko Grand Hotel onsen, 8:34 pm

In Place description, Poetic prose, Writing on 2016/02/04 at 12:40

The warm, slightly murky greenish water envelopes me, steam rising from it’s surface, billowing into the cool air. There is snow all around me, large drifts on the ground, clinging to the branches of trees, a large clump atop a conical rock in front of me. Slightly to the left, sticking out of the water like a small island, is an ornamental Japanese stone lantern. A single, street light style lamp bathes the scene in warm yellow light. Large snowflakes float lazily down to melt as soon as they touch my skin… Total relaxation.

Gong pitan waterfall, 3:29 pm

In Feeling of the moment, Place description, Poetic prose, Writing on 2015/09/06 at 07:39

I’m lying on a flat rock at the bottom of a big waterfall, gazing at the sky, the canopy of the jungle on two sides, and some fluffy clouds floating leisurely by. I dip my feet in the river, letting the cool water flow over them, and in the background I can hear the swooshing of the fall and the mellow gurgling of the creek among the boulders. Complete peacefulness.

Wangong harbor 8:44 pm

In Feeling of the moment, Place description, Poetic prose, Writing on 2015/05/09 at 13:18

I walk around the corner, leave the noise of the restaurant behind me, the voices of playing children trail off as the darkness envelopes me. I look out over the harbor, there are four street lights on the pier opposite me, illuminating the surface of the water, forming orange blotches that shimmer in the darkness. A breeze ruffles the waters surface, making the orange blotches dance with a waving motion, whispering softly in my ear. I didn’t realize until now how loud the dinner was, now I feel at peace.

Murger weg, 9:52 pm

In Feeling of the moment, Place description, Poetic prose, Writing on 2014/09/03 at 17:14

I am passing the point where the street lights end, behind me the street is desolate and gloomy, no people around and but few lights in the windows, in front of me just murky darkness. As I leave the light a feeling rises within me, I don’t think it’s fear, no its not strong enough for that, but rather apprehension. In my mind I can rationalize it, I highly doubt some ill doer would be waiting on dark road at the edge of a rural German town with the intent to accost a chance jogger. Neither do I think there is a big risk of running in to wild beasts lurking in the forest yet somehow the feeling remains. It is surprisingly not completely dark, while in the city the street light shadows form impenetrable black blotches, out here light pollution from the town reflects off the clouds and bathes everything in a faint orange haze. All the familiar shapes flow together, dim outlines in a fog; it’s not until I am right by it that a formless lump coalesces into the shape of a parked car. Since I can’t see very clearly – all I can make out with any sort of clarity is that the road runs straight and true next to the train tracks – my hearing becomes more acute. Every rustle of leaves and every broken branch makes me glance around nervously, there is nothing there but I cannot help looking. Soon enough the glowing face of my watch shows it is time to turn around and when I do, a wave of relief washes over me…

Road no 1, afternoon

In Place description, Poetic prose, Writing on 2014/05/24 at 19:07

The black sand eventually gives way to some sparse yellow grass spreading out over the fields, the snowy mountains looming closer, masses of ice blocks from the glacier spilling out onto the grass. The road curves away from the mountains, running through fields of greenish yellow, the glaciers tumbling down in the distance. The road curves back and the mountains grow higher but less steep, slopes of sand running down towards the sea. The grass grows higher and the mountains become darker again, and more rocky, tendrils of broken black cliffs crawling out on the plane, the road snaking between them in wide curves.

Jing guo/ Min quan cross, 5:08 pm

In Place description, Poetic prose, Writing on 2014/05/15 at 23:31

I’ve only been outside for a couple of minutes but I’m already utterly and completely drenched. My shirt clings to my back like a wet dish cloth, my jeans are heavy with water, sticking to my thighs. Every time I brake or change gear, a torrent of cold water runs down my legs and sloshes around in my shoes, when I speed up the heavy drops pound my chest like a fistful of marbles, I’m suffering unmatched levels of discomfort. I see the light turn green and the riders preceding me hit a giant puddle on the opposite side of the street, with big splashes. I cross the street and go in myself, the water level must be over my wheels, a great wake sprays up on both sides; I feel I should’ve come in a boat, not on a motorcycle. At that moment I realize how crazy this is, at noon the sun was still shining, and this was still a road, now the torrential downpour has turned it into a river and I’m traversing it with the wrong type of vehicle, I can’t help but to crack a smile at the thought of it.

Sky over Taiwan, 5:38 am

In Place description, Poetic prose, Writing on 2013/10/06 at 09:32

The captain has just made his landing speech over the intercom, announcing that it is raining on the ground but up here, above the clouds it is fair to say that the sunrise is fantastic. The planes wing, sweeping backwards, cuts across the blue grey landscape of clouds, forming a constant reference against the soft hills and gently sloping valleys flowing by. The sky above is a rich blue, paling towards the horizon where it is streaked in fiery orange and bright golden yellow, with a few free floating tufts of cloud livening up the otherwise empty sky. The light reflects off the metallic surface of the wing, sending a streak of orange along the edge, completing the picture. Iv’e seen a few sunrises and sunset in my lift, but this is well neigh the best.