Eloise Robertson
Bio
I pull my ideas randomly out of thin air and they materialise on a page. Some may call me a magician.
Stories (108)
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The Stars Deemed It So
From the day I was born the stars dictated the kind of person I would be today. In their essence they are energy, power, grace and blinding beauty. How is it that these impressive entities were aware of little old me, my own essence but a spec, a tiny life born an eternity away from their presence? My life is only a small blip on the timeline of the universe. The stars, by comparison, are wizened in their old age. They have seen generations of humans born, witnessed our growths and challenges, our wins and losses, and been present for our deaths. Who else but the stars would know from the instant I was born who I am destined to be for the rest of my existence? They have studied humankind for so long there is a very slim chance that they could be wrong in their assumptions of me. Unfortunately, though, the voices that speak on behalf of the stars above us can spread lies. Blessed we would be if we could bask in the stars’ presence directly, hear their whispers and stare in awe of their immense power but unfortunately we cannot come close enough to them to reveal their secrets entirely. Their knowledge of us may be twisted or lost as we pick out what information we can from so far away, and from the few who claim to know the stars’ best.
By Eloise Robertson 5 years ago in Futurism
As children we are set up for disappointment
When I was a child there frequently came the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?” I was only in primary school but the conversation began there. This is also where the seed of hope was planted that would eventually rot, lifeless, instead of growing into a healthy plant.
By Eloise Robertson 5 years ago in Humans
The Identity of a Landscape
Week 1 - Landscape as PLACE Silver, yellow, white, white, blue, grey, red, black, grey, grey, green, silver, and forever continuing in a seemingly random pattern all in two straight vertical lines. This, my friend, is a carpark; a place you and I are most likely both familiar with. Glorious, isn’t it?
By Eloise Robertson 5 years ago in Wander
Bullet for the 14th February
Let’s be real here – who even celebrates Valentine's Day? Seriously, it is just the one day a year couples put on their fakes smiles and pretend to be nice to each other. I have an idea: instead of having one day of the year where your relationship is perfect and not a train wreck, let’s do the opposite. Let’s be consistently happy people every other day of the year for a damned change and spend one day a year throwing ourselves into songs that accentuate pain, angst, betrayal, depression, hatred and all vile experiences that tear us up inside (sounds like fun, right?).
By Eloise Robertson 5 years ago in Beat
Class Represented in Perrault’s Puss in Boots
The Puss in Boots tale is thought to have first been written by Giovanni Straparola around 1550-1553 called Constantino Fortunato and was taken up by other authors including Giambattista Basile around 1634, Charles Perrault in 1697 and The Brothers Grimm in 1812 as well as adaptations by Disney and Dreamworks.
By Eloise Robertson 5 years ago in Humans
She Gave Me Life
My life began with a crayon on a page. The glittering thick wax in the hands of a child smeared a mark that did not form a particular word or remain between my well-printed lines. The small, dainty hand gripped that crayon and dragged it across my first page without any particular sense of direction. Most notebooks might think it to be a very ungraceful coming into this world, but for me it will always stand as the greatest experience I will ever have. It was a grand awakening full of passion, brightness and glee!
By Eloise Robertson 5 years ago in Humans
Marmal Hall
I could show you a horizon as far as the eye can see, stretching far and beyond your ability to even comprehend. I could show you the wide open skies awash with a harmony of pastel pinks, blues and purples. I could show you a lake once full and shimmering but now the home of rabbits, kangaroos, foxes and possums. I could show you my father’s crops standing thick and tall before harvest, a golden sea of wheat that would ripple in the breeze. I could show you the oasis in the middle of a desert – my mother’s garden that brings birds, bees, frogs and snakes to bask in what it has to offer. I could show you the farm I grew up on.
By Eloise Robertson 5 years ago in Wander
My wishes for Me
Dear future me, Hello Me, I hope you are well. I would like to imagine you sitting at your desk, scrolling through this journal on Vocal 12 months from the day I post it, pleased with yourself and the strides you have taken to grow and thrive as a human being. No matter if they are long, confident strides or short, ambling steps, I wish you forward movement all the same.
By Eloise Robertson 5 years ago in Motivation
Flower Within a Glass Case
A small town looks like a shining community which never loses its luster. For generations it keeps the same quality year-in and year-out. Every year you visited as a child the town seemed unchanged, perfectly preserved like a flower within a glass case. You never notice any new faces; even the visitors that book into the caravan park alongside your family when you were young are consistent. You each believe you have struck gold in discovering the idyllic holiday town with a grass always the same shade of bright green and the lake always full and rippling with the blue of a perfect day.
By Eloise Robertson 5 years ago in Humans
