art
The best relationship art depicts the highs and lows of the authentic couple.
Maiden Voyage
A smatter of strange curved patterns colour the pearly white sky with orange and purple hues to form a surreal sunset. Cornflower blue and canary yellow join the mix displayed the unique aesthetic of a long forgotten, undying art. The smooth porcelain landscape curves down into a deep dry wasteland of doom and drought, awaiting the return of the floods to restore it to its once famed glory. Time moves slowly, soundless here as the society at large lies lifeless and depressed, their purpose lost in this now waterless world.
By Bree Beadman5 years ago in Humans
BEAUTY
I remember that it was a relaxing spring day. The air was calm, with no wind or breeze. We walked, my friend and I, along an isolated path. My friend, Melinda, was pretty of sorts, had long, long hair and was totally self -absorbed in her perceived beauty. I, on the other hand, was much more docile and demure. As we slowly walked in silence, I glanced up at the sky. The clouds were far from us and puffy white. We passed a lake with some swans. Then suddenly we came up to a garden of flowers. They were splendid and brilliant in color. We could smell their fragrant aroma. We settled on a bench near the flowers and I could imagine myself communing with the souls of these silent, living, beautiful plants.
By Natalie Marino5 years ago in Humans
Lost In You
Now this should be a treat. An invitation of delight. I was wondering when you were going to come around. Ive been thinking of you. Dreaming of you. Missing you. I told myself that when we get together tonight. Id make sure to be ooen to whatever you suggest and submit to your every desire. Besides. Id do anything to be with you. A girl like me needs you. To become the woman I need to be. Can't you see that baby? What's that you say? We're staying in tonight? Oh that's an even BIGGER delight. A little netflix n chill. I'm always down for a little THRILL-ER with you. I'll put that sexy red thang on that you like. You know the one that makes my butt look big. Yes. Just for you.
By Carrie Jones5 years ago in Humans
What Lies Behind His Eyes
Globs of crimson swam to and fro across the woman’s towering canvas, but it did not overcome her, for the raw, naked beauty which possessed her, made her seem equal to that of her work. Perhaps, her nightly lovers wondered, after nights of euphoria they had never felt before, nor would ever feel again, perhaps, she was her own work of art, and every piece she created was simply another offering of herself to the canvas. The woman had no care for an apron; muddled smears of paint could make their way from her cracked fingers to her loose, entirely too long hair, but she would have to notice said stains to begin to care. Today, on her balcony shrouded in an overgrown jungle of plants, many wilted in desperate thirst, the woman worked with a palette of deepest crimsons, which she had set aside on a frail stool teetering against the heavy breeze. In one hand, wet with pigment against the side of her palm, she held a thick handled paintbrush, sloppy with paint. Her other hand, laden with a tall stemmed glass of merlot, lifted the red to her already stained lips. By the time she would come to finish her glass of Sauvignon Blonde, the merlot being the choice of her previous nights partner, (who had chosen the bottle sporting a portrait of Marilyn Monroe, with stars in his eyes as he beheld the woman’s face, for her beauty, though much less refined and polished than Monroe’s, reminded him of her all the same), the woman would find herself drinking from the lip of the bottle in lieu of refilling her glass.
By Kendelle McElhannon5 years ago in Humans
The art of Acting is the Art of Pausing
Beyond presence and talent, good acting is often viewed as a verbal art form. Elocution, diction, projection and modulation, to only name a few elements, are believed to be the obvious and essential ingredients to a good monologue or performance.
By Eric Stone5 years ago in Humans
The Picture of Dorian Gray - Rewritten
I could feel the heat of the fire on my cheeks, the tears I had been crying long forgotten as they evaporated on my skin. The flames licked their way up the photograph, the paper keeling over as it burned away, flakes of what it had depicted falling to the ground in ash, creating tiny hills of what had once been adoration. I had no sudden inclination to sweep any of it away, I just stared at the blues that blackened what had been beneath them in their wake. That was my last tether to him. I no longer felt any emotion at the thought of his eyes, especially after they burnt away and caught the evening breeze.
By Anarky Taylor5 years ago in Humans
