Ree-Writes #22: Eclectic


I’ve got an interesting, eclectic mix of shares for you in this issue! In the name of creativity, there are clowns, colours, crusts and calculators.

There’s a collage too. Here’s my past of couple of weeks in a pic collage:

Clockwise L-R:

  1. Chalk drawing of a rainbow above a puddle of slime (naturally) – with LittleOne
  2. My Indi-Girl looking resplendent in her winter coat
  3. A frangipani in the early morning sun after the rain
  4. How my phone camera caught yesterday’s pre-dawn sky – NOT photoshopped
  5. A rare albino echidna, nicknamed Raffie, in Central West NSW. Found on Mastodon
  6. A painting I did with a kids’ $2 paints, and photoshopped to add atmosphere
  7. Palm trees and nearly full moon, from two days ago

I hope my words find you well in your world, and I hope you enjoy this issue.

Writing & Creativity Cool Finds

Something I created

The Sad Clown of Carleton Park

…The circus died of natural causes and its circus folk melted away – to lash themselves to another circus or to drift on into other places and other lives – no-one knew.

So they say.

So the parts of the industrial estate turn and churn and roll in their regimented synchronicities and they make their precious things around the clock.

But sometimes. Just sometimes.

The equipment slows infinitesimally. The levers are reluctant, the gears refuse to synchronise perfectly, the axles stick, the belts stutter.

Not all at the same time.

But around the same time.

Then the sad notes waft up above the sounds of the equipment. They gather into the aluminium-coloured and piped contours of the ceilings and then they seep out into the air and the sky.

Four notes. Mournful. Atonal. The texture of a dying merry-go-round.

Slow. Persistent. Repetitive. All day and all night.

The residents near and far grow restless. And they complain to the local council.

The council scolds the owners of the industrial estate, and the owners tell their managers to fix the problem.

The managers and team leaders look at each other inside their buildings and shrug. Then they go outside to their perimetre fences to talk to their equivalents in the other buildings. The workers go into the streets to take their food and smoking breaks ignore the noise and talk nonchalantly to each other about other things.

They know. They all know what the problem is, but they don’t know how to fix it.

How do you explain that the problem is a sad ghost?

I Love!

Random, Interesting, Inspirational

Thank you

Du fond du coeur, thanks for reading x

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