My eye. My resolve

I look out the window of my room to see the world that resides outside. Every day the window brings in the light into my life. As if giving me something. I, on the ither hand, I let go of the sands of time and oppurtunity it hands me. The sands that I borrow everyday from it and waste away.

Is my life becoming a waste? I guess its just my window thats getting dirtier.

With every stroke of the brush. With every mark of the pencil, she was creating a masterpiece. Unknown to her she was contemplating herself. Creating her own reflection in the painting she was giving birth to. Unconciously, she was giving to life to the painting with every passing moment. She wanted to be the girl who could walk on the sand. Walk on the wet sand so that she could leave her marks in a new way. She could smell the salty water. She could feel the warmth of the setting sun in the distant. The noise of the waves soothed her and was like a mantra to her.