Tuesday, July 3, 2012

47/365 ice

In Dante's Inferno, ice built up on the eyes of those who tried to cry.  Their heads thrown back, with ice building up constantly.  I forget what this particular punishment (the contrapaso) was for, but I know that it was at one of the lowest levels in Hell.

Ice can be refreshing, in the summertime, especially.  A tall glass of iced tea filled with ice and lemon.  Mmm.

Ice on the streets in the winter time, causing yo to grab where there is nothing to grab onto; flailing in the air to catch your balance.

One of the most delightful sights is when ice has encrusted onto the tree limbs and branches.  Sparkling in the morning light.  Millions of crystals twinkling overhead.

*A free-write is a type of automatic writing, where you just go with your stream of consciousness non-stop. There's no thought to spelling or grammar, and no editing of words. Supposedly this opens the mind up to greater creativity. They can be 5, 10 or 20 minutes long. Suggestions for freewrites are always welcome. Visit Evie, with whom I freewrite, at the space between colors.

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