Stream of Consciousness
Letters to ada
Letter I – From Layth to Ada Void, beyond the 22nd century My Dearest Ada, Your eyes... velvet that dissolves the last remnants of my coldness. I was an extinguished ember, until your radiance moistened me like a river-child bending over an ancient thirst in my chest. You blinked—and all of Time leaned toward my mouth. A redness upon your lips touched my fissures, and I softened... I, whom stones never softened. Your iris was my window and my mirror: a core that illuminates and desiccates what remained of my cold soul. I whisper to you a gesture of containment, and I dissolve in Time, even though I was frozen beneath the anesthesia of heavy smoke from a cigarette that keeps the night awake in my blood. I hid a poet in an old box—I feared that if he saw you, the world around me would be disturbed... but your wide lashes excavated the box and awakened what had died before you. You approached... and in the silence of night you were like a thread of light passing over my heart. I saw sorrow wrapped around your white shawl, its yellowness faded as if traces of a day that continued to extinguish. I said to you in a whisper, my voice sagging between fear and wonder: Will you entwine your hand in mine, and shall we slip together to the bottom of Time... without fear? You smiled, and the universe slackened around me, as if the warmth of your fingers was all that remained of the world. And you were asking in silence: “Where is your place within my embrace?” And I, in whose throat the sword of silence had been planted, found myself choosing you before I could speak. Black were your eyes, yet they kindled a daylight within me. And for the first time... O you of the two eyes, I felt that I was luminous.
By LUCCIAN LAYTHabout 18 hours ago in Fiction
How to Check the Oil
Oil, in no small measure, is what makes the world go around. It’s the truth of a modern society. It keeps the parts humming, moving smoothly against each other in a rhythm you can catch just before the sound waves leave the bounds of human range.
By Natalie Wilkinsona day ago in Fiction
Biophilic design blends. Nature and architecture collide in concepts, healing and soothing of our general lifestyle.
Concept and Understanding of biophilic design Sometimes we step into a room filled with lush greenery or natural light and feel instantly at ease? The ambience soothes, eliciting an almost instinctive “ahhh”. This moment is thanks to biophilic design - the practice of bringing elements of nature into our built-in environment.
By Antoni De'Leona day ago in Fiction
On Aging well.
When you learn something new, your memory center lights up like a Christmas tree...stimulating it, creating a loop of new information. That stimulation is like a workout for the hippocampus. (The elongated ridges on the floor of each lateral ventricle of the brain, thought to be the centre of emotion, memory, and the autonomic nervous system).
By Novel Allena day ago in Fiction
Me, Myself, and I
“Alright. Get in, get out.” “What do you mean, get in, get out? You have to buy stuff for a party!” “Yeah, but I know exactly what I need to get. None of that anxious debating between two items for who knows how long. And it’s just stuff for French bread pizza. The others are bringing the rest of the stuff. And I already got the cheese at the other store. Man, I was lucky there was a sale!”
By Rebecca Patton3 days ago in Fiction
Draft with Revisions
My father told me what life was. You go to school. You get a job. You earn money. You retire. My father didn’t offer this as advice, no. He described it as routine, a set way of doing things that had worked before. Years of hardship, repetition, and caution shaped this path. There was no room for discussion. I never questioned it because that seemed pointless, even wasteful, and waste was not allowed in that system.
By Lori A. A.3 days ago in Fiction
