Melody is typing...

.painting.

firstly, please let your brain follow the guidance of my words and try picture what i am trying to say. is that fine? thanks so much =)

i laid back and closed my eyes. the bed of straw was just as comfortable as my fluffy mattress at home. slowly i inhaled. the sweet scent of the ripe paddy, the woody smell of the forever strong and tall tree, the special kind of smell which only comes once in awhile when the skies were blue like today, and finally the smell of my own clothes, soaked with perspiration due to the running i did through the whole grassland. surprisingly, i did not stink. surprisingly, it was a natural smell, i felt just another inch closer to nature. i opened my eyes, now letting my sense of sight to admire the work of God. i was overwhelmed by the beauty. we've become so blind to our other senses that we get numb. amazed by the yellowish gold of the rice field, i willed myself to take another greedy breath. again, i see myself running and dancing with joy, in the evening when you left me alone, alone in the place which once was where i dreaded most. i can now laugh at myself, how stupid was i to have even wasted a second in this perfect place by not seeing the beauty. i guess, i was blind. memories start flooding my brain, i remember the time you made me the kite. i ran as fast as my legs could take me, i tripped, i fell, but my kite never flew high enough. slowly, your warm hands guided me, with affection and patience in your voice, you told me: "ah tee, not like that. let go slowly, see, the kite is soaring." the very memory of you making the kite was enough to make me cry. with tears scorching hot on my cheek, i gazed into the blue sky, willing the white clouds to bring away my sorrow.

well. to those who read this post. did the picture below just happen to come into your mind when you were reading? or even something like it? hope so.

i was just thinking, who are authors? they are just normal people like you like me right? but they just manage to tie our hearts our minds to their story. i could almost feel the despair when alice saw that the volturi were coming. i cried when tobby was dead to protect harry.

it's just that i haven't been writing for long, and i got all nostalgic. i know it's weird anyway. but what can i do? i'm only writing facts now, thesis statement, argument, opinion. and they are just plain boring. really so boring.