Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Grade 12 Place Writing by Atma Singh
The Grade 12 English class was given an assignment to write about place, appealing to the five senses. It could be a simple description, or a description as part of a story. Here is one of the results from Atma Singh:
I think over the last few years my memory has become ... vague. Events pass, people grow old and die, and still more are born yet in the end it all becomes vague.
Except home, that one place where your weary mind goes to rest.
For me it's home, the Kalahari. It always starts dark. Before sunrise. The land itself is truly awake. Those animals that live in the dark are falling asleep and those things that live in the day are just waking up. The dark seems endless and all encompassing. All sound seems muted by it.
But there are the smells everywhere assaulting you, so strong. Because of the lack of other sensory input, you can taste them. The sweet pungent smell of fresh dung in the damp air seems most prominent, but by no means the only one. The wood smells hard and grainy, the leaves slightly bitter yet full of life. Even the rocks smell, however faintly, slightly musty like age embodied.
All these smells and a million others seem to get stronger and stronger in the damp air blocking out all else. The whole land seems to hold its breath and tense waiting, waiting. Until the sun finally breaks the horizon stunning in its sliver of brilliance. Everything relaxes, all tension gone.
Then little by little your attention is drawn to the ground. Everything sparkles with single droplets of dew which in seconds are gone. Suddenly there is motion everywhere; a land that mere seconds ago seemed dormant is now alive and busy with insects, lizards, ants, beetles of every shape, size and shade imaginable.
Finally the eye is drawn further down. To the dust. The dust is a red so deep as to seem brown, so fine it feels softer than silk. The dust has seen the world through all its stages, was there in the beginning and will be there in the end. It goes further than the eye can see, broken only by rocks and the occasional bush.
The sun rises and the air dries. First smell is eradicated -- too dry and too hot. Then touch -- you stop feeling anything but heat. Then sound -- all sound disappears in the heat. All you hear is a thrumming in your ears. Then finally everything falls away; thoughts and sight disappear together.
All that's left is you, the silence and the soft red dust.
The Grade 12 English class was given an assignment to write about place, appealing to the five senses. It could be a simple description, or a description as part of a story. Here is one of the results from Atma Singh:
I think over the last few years my memory has become ... vague. Events pass, people grow old and die, and still more are born yet in the end it all becomes vague.
Except home, that one place where your weary mind goes to rest.
For me it's home, the Kalahari. It always starts dark. Before sunrise. The land itself is truly awake. Those animals that live in the dark are falling asleep and those things that live in the day are just waking up. The dark seems endless and all encompassing. All sound seems muted by it.
But there are the smells everywhere assaulting you, so strong. Because of the lack of other sensory input, you can taste them. The sweet pungent smell of fresh dung in the damp air seems most prominent, but by no means the only one. The wood smells hard and grainy, the leaves slightly bitter yet full of life. Even the rocks smell, however faintly, slightly musty like age embodied.
All these smells and a million others seem to get stronger and stronger in the damp air blocking out all else. The whole land seems to hold its breath and tense waiting, waiting. Until the sun finally breaks the horizon stunning in its sliver of brilliance. Everything relaxes, all tension gone.
Then little by little your attention is drawn to the ground. Everything sparkles with single droplets of dew which in seconds are gone. Suddenly there is motion everywhere; a land that mere seconds ago seemed dormant is now alive and busy with insects, lizards, ants, beetles of every shape, size and shade imaginable.
Finally the eye is drawn further down. To the dust. The dust is a red so deep as to seem brown, so fine it feels softer than silk. The dust has seen the world through all its stages, was there in the beginning and will be there in the end. It goes further than the eye can see, broken only by rocks and the occasional bush.
The sun rises and the air dries. First smell is eradicated -- too dry and too hot. Then touch -- you stop feeling anything but heat. Then sound -- all sound disappears in the heat. All you hear is a thrumming in your ears. Then finally everything falls away; thoughts and sight disappear together.
All that's left is you, the silence and the soft red dust.
# posted by MPA Student Work @ 3:48 AM 
