The Beautiful Seashell | Teen Ink

The Beautiful Seashell

May 7, 2016
By Isthatkatelyn BRONZE, Bronx, New York
Isthatkatelyn BRONZE, Bronx, New York
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Drunks words are sober thoughts.


They say the minute you put a seashell in your ear you hear the ocean or the stories crawling in your ear. Well...in this case this was different. This seashell breathes the same air she does. It once crawled through her body onto her neck and drowned in her skin making it permanent. Each line, dash represented something more beyond than simple words that somehow slipped out of mouths of others. This...this was her tattoo. This seashell that I saw, that I somehow can't keep my eyes off of it, that I adored for some reason, it has a story behind it besides being tattooed behind her ear, having her golden locks covering it just a couple of years ago. This was opposite. The oceans that sung and danced throughout crashing waters grew in the colors of green and blue. This is what I saw in her eyes, mixed with a kind gentle soul that you kindly felt through her hands. 

I always see her catching up and running like if she was preparing dinner for 25. She moved left to right, up and down like if the spirit of the ocean was with her. It was like she brought the ocean to the hallway. A sea goddess who worked with her powers of peace very secretly. I don’t know how she does it, but it’s soon to be known. Her favorite turquoise pen tucked nicely behind her ear it's her sun-rising golden locks covering it, sleepiness in her eyes and a burning passion in her heart that seems to paint my face pretty bright. When I saw her sitting down focused, it reminded me of the pictures going on in my head every time I hear Yiruma hitting the keys of his piano in the song “Painted”. It painted so many pictures. I stared at her, not because I wanted to but because she had personality like I other.  To me, I don't understand how the sweat of a hard worker didn't affect her hands. I've heard little whispers saying sandpaper is the hand of a hard worker but the softness of her hand belonged to her skin and that somewhat amazed me. Maybe she’s used to the sweat and sand of a faraway beach. Far away with her seashell. The seashell laid on top of her glowing skin, to me this seashell was beyond that just a simple tattoo. I know it means more but for now it stays there and my eyes are locked on it because I know it represents more than her.



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