This was written for an assignment in English class. We were asked to take a moment out of our day for about an hour and live like Thoreau did and appreciate nature. Here are my thoughts.
Things are good.
The world is pure, little beauties all around me.
Today I sit in a cafe gem.
There is a man with a beard in the corner, maybe writing love letters to a woman in France.
A father with his daughter to my left, she is curious about what this world has to offer.
A quiet woman with black hair is curled up on the chair behind me, writing a best selling novel.
Two men chat in the back, perhaps conspiring for a better world.
The man behind the counter speaks with a spunky woman, wearing a polka skirt to her ankles.
The other man has a scruffy beard, he makes the coffee.
There is a painting on the wall that reads “he was a moon eclipsed by stars”
It speaks to me.
For what reason? I'm not sure exactly, it just does.
They write on chalkboards, asking us to follow them on Instagram, to send them memes.
The tables are marble, perfect for an Instagram photo.
But today, I don't take one.
Instead, I write.
About the people around me.
About the world, the little details around me.
Thoreau had nature, but I have the city.
Nature is brilliant, the pure, quiet places that you can find.
But what I really love is the stories
That I may not know, but exist
The people, all different, who buzz around me.
That is my nature.
My nature is not trees and green and serenity
My nature is something that I don't have everyday
I live in a house in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nature.
But, it's the people and the tall buildings and the culture and the sounds and smells that I love.
I took some photos.
I don't think that taking a photo ruins a moment, it enhances it.
I love having an image
That is what I love about my world
How I can capture it with one click
Remember the good, when I have to face the bad
I don't think that by me taking photos it ruined my experience
It just helped me to remember
From today, I learned how much I love adventuring
Not stuck in a school,
Or practicing my violin
Routine gets old.
I live for getting out of the house alone
Just me, my thoughts, and the world
For I am only complete
When I am becoming human