Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Your Senses

Last week we had an amazing Writers' Group. (This is a week late
because I was caught up in theatre production overload.) We met and
learned some good things about our senses.

Donna led the discussion on noticing what's around you and using at
least three of your five senses.

So, right now I want to hear/read what you are sensing right now. Here's mine:

Smelling the sweetness of a little one's breath as she asks to be
tucked in and feeling the silky-smoothness of her blonde hair as I
kiss her goodnight. After I kiss her I get a razzberry on my arm and
the vibrations linger long after her zurburt.

6 comments:

  1. I just escaped to my bedroom so the only thing I hear is the clicking of my fingers on the keyboard and the quiet squeak of the recliner as I rock back and forth. The taste of cinnamon permeates my mouth, a spicy tingling from the gum I'm chewing. I feel my cold feet chilling me from the bottom up, and as soon as I finish this, I'm getting a pair of warm socks :)

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  2. Forcing my eyelids to stay open, I listen to the exchanges during the city council meeting while daydreaming of home, comfy pants, little arms wrapped around my neck, that lovely baby smell, kisses from hubby, tasty salmon for dinner, hot chocolate for after (with marshmallows of course), and a warm and cozy bed with visions of Christmas vacation days dancing in my head.

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  3. A resounding numbness fogs my brain. Somewhere, perhaps on the tips of my fingers, a moist warm puppy tongue breaks through. If I hang on to that feeling, I might remember why I'm here, but it's gone like everything else. I feel the moist warmness again, but I realize it's not a pleasant memory I feel, it's sticky and slick. I pull my hand to my face and smell, then taste...blood.


    Okay, this wasn't what I was actually feeling, but it was fun to write. :)

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  4. Feeling hungry, unfilled after grilled chicken for dinner. Fingers smell like a mildewed rag, and I'm actually comfortable despite the chill outside. The room is just bright enough, and it's quiet.

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  5. It's time to work. Cocooned in a too large comforter, seated at a too crowded desk, the whirring of fans in my antique computer distract me. The cold basement has managed to make even the familiar keys strangers to my touch, chilling my fingertips. Then the assault of malodorous fumes wafting from the floor, sleepy dog fart-gross. How is a girl supposed to work under these conditions?

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