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Memories

She came to me on the first day of summer, she arrived just like seasonal winds, in her hands she clutched an artist’s portfolio and an out of date Polaroid camera. Her amber eyes held a sense of wonder and the wisdom of a pretentious youth who had over casted their knowledge. In her unruly red hair rest a maple leaf, seasonal of the time. Her perfume encompassed the sweet fall aura of pumpkin spice while her clothes hinted of wood smoke and the deep forestry that littered the terrain. I helped her carry a few boxes into her home, she was the new girl on the block and when she smiled at me, I knew that everything was about to change.


We shared an evening together, trekking through the brambles of forestry that encompassed the neighborhood. It was one of my favorite places, my secret gateway. With a life of living in a city that would strangle you in it sweltered summer heat I cherished spending the cooler months in the wooded north. To hike out to a clearing and gaze out over the limitless brush and tangle of nature that surrounded us. Sometimes we would both sit and daydream of rugged explorers master their environment with the skills of seasoned veteran, the limitless idea of spending your days utterly encompassed in the adventure around you.


It was a brilliant day, the scenery we both gazed out at was crisp and clear, something that looked as though it were meant to be captured on a crisp roll of film, homage to stand against the soon frigid and dark winter months to come. I had decided to stay the evening at her house, a small two story building that was encompassed by the greenery that surrounded it, yet through design each one on our block seemed to be another corporate clone with a different layer of paint. She was still settling in despite long declared this place her home, yet as she unlocked her door she once again began working like clockwork. We would both bound across the pine floorboards and up to her sanctum, I noticed that each time we entered she had fallen into a pattern. I often watched her throw open the window to let in the cool breeze from outside; she’d stop and stare for a moment out at the vast rural terrain, occasionally slipping out a profound thought or philosophy for me. I can still hear the short sigh before she would begin her train of thoughts that always seemed to start with one simple phrase.


“Now, let’s do some unpacking” She would always say, rubbing her hands together as a smile revealed the dull white of her teeth. Her words held a certain significance than just a simple statement of facts. I as usual sat beside her as she unzipped the art portfolio and took out a series of solid envelopes, the action seemed almost second nature to her as she ran her fingers over the thick cardstock in an almost unconscious caress. She would hesitate, a moment that poised herself as if she were an avid conductor ready to launch herself into a beautiful symphony. Then she slipped hand into the depths of the mysterious yellow cardstock.


And what she brought out, were marvels.


First she unpacked spring, a sweet golden honey sunset angling across fields of sweet wildflowers and shagged brush. The soft whispers of the wind swaying each strand as it moved to the breeze’s command, long shadows seemingly stretching out to try and touch the sweet beauty. I could smell the sweet pollen, feel the small crack of twigs as you ventured through, and the sunbaked soil and old stone that lay exposed. I could remember how we weaved together daisy chains and flower crowns to tangle in each other’s hair.


Then she brought out a forest, a scene we both knew well. A small stream that leaked into a clearing we both so often went venturing through. One the worn rocks lay two sets of sneakers, drying off after we both had gone stomping through the water, as the taste of cheap icy pops stained our tongues. Above lay a clearing so that the clear blue sky could be seen and make you feel the enviable summer heat.


Next she brought out the stars themselves. A rich dark sky that was clear enough to expose the beautiful stars amongst it. It was late; the moon lay overhead, full and properly showing off all of its glory. A crisp warm evening that encompassed us like a warm sweater, a comfort that made us feel like we were wrapped in a blanket even though we wore summer clothes that left our skin exposed. You could also hear the faint whispers of you two, staring out over at the beauty above you, saying sweet nothings and secrets you both swore you’d forever keep.


“They’re beautiful”


“Yeah, but I think this one is my favorite” She replied digging in the depths of her envelope once more for another piece of photography.


Finally, she unpacked her smile. A simple image with our arms around each other, grinning as we hoped that we wouldn’t be blinded by the cameras flash, yet it held a string of memories I hoped would always last.


Memories
For memories I tried really to just sort of really wanted to focus on the more scenery and sense based tips. I feel as though I really wanted to experiment more with appealing to people’s scenes and setting nice scenery and I feel like this really gave me a good opportunity to do so. The first tip I of course attempted was trying to tailor the story more towards one’s senses. I really wanted to put my readers into this scenery and considering that me and this friend had a passion for photography I figured what better way to help encompass it than through photos. I also wanted to see if I could make emotional ties through scenery by invoking ones senses, one example being a child hood memory of eating cheap popsicles.

 

Secondly I sort of tried to start my story with a invoking scene. I’m not exactly sure how well I managed to pull it off but in the end I’m kind of glad I tried. I got a lot of interesting imagery from that and I generally was a fan of the way it came out. I really wanted to give a good description of this girl yet I wasn’t quite sure how until I went back to senses and setting a scene. From there I really just decided to focus on key things you would get from a person and add a little razzle dazzle to them such as ‘. Her amber eyes held a sense of wonder and the wisdom of a pretentious youth who had over casted their knowledge.’.




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