I’m a pretty lazy person, and for many reasons but that being the main contributor: I cannot commit to writing on this blog. Therefore, the only option to write is to force it. I’m subjecting myself, someone who blogs literally once every two months, to write 30 blogs in 30 days. That’s right: the 30-day writing challenge. The one I’m doing is from the scribendi website, so if anyone else is up for doing this challenge with me, just let me know so I can read. To be completely honest, I’m going to try hard to get until day 30 but my last 30-day writing challenge ended with me on day 8.
Day 1: Take us through a written walk down your street and to your favourite place through the eyes of somebody else. (Disclaimer: I really don’t have a favourite place but I am going to write about the park I walk through and where going to sketch).
As I paced down an unfamiliar street that seemed ever so homely. The kind of street you would never read about unless for its unwavering regularity. It being quiet and still, almost as if no one really lived here. Despite the fact it was surrounded by houses and those houses were surrounded by houses. It was still too quiet. However every now and then after that thought had occurred to me, I would see a person pass me. They never really saw me, they just ignored obstacle in a rush. Rushing to get somewhere. There was nothing to see here, no reason to slow down and appreciate it.
It was like a normal street, it had those small trees planted about two or three metres away from the last. In between them was a cluttering of cars. For some odd reason, there were a ridiculous amount of stationary cars. It’s like every house had a family of four, where all four could drive. This is a problem when even the houses are too close. Like true London fashion most of them are terraced and a few lucky ones get to be semi-detached. This led to the inevitable clutter.
As I turned the corner, there was a bustle of cars speeding down the road, a bus stopped and went. It again all seemed so rushed. Maybe because even on the busy road there was still nothing worth seeing. No sights. Just a simple few houses and then a row of shops. Small businesses, nothing exquisite. A grocers or two, a hairdresser there. A place for them to settle down and remain, so for them nothing changed. They looked old and grew to be part of the background, clearly nothing here has changed drastically.
Now I approach a roundabout, with cars forced to stand at a halt while others crossed where the lights changed. There were five different ways to go, one going back, the other would show a restaurant along with a few more and the old library that definitely does not own the book you want to read. The third simply just more road, walking down would just take me to another borough, same with the fifth. I walked down to the fourth, leading to again more road. There was a bus stop, more grocers and of course more restaurants. As I walked further down, I could see gates to a park, surely the scenery should be better there than what I see. So that was path I chose and was immediately proved wrong, as there were two small ponds with a swarm of ducks. It was dirty and looked ancient, again nothing worth any value to see. However there were still people sat down enjoying the pathetic view.
I only wanted to walk further to be were there were no people. Simply sit alone where it didn’t smell like unwashed animals and be in peace. I walked further down past those families having barbecues and loud kids, until there was a patch of grass where I could sit.
When I finally sat, it didn’t seem so horrible. It was ordinary and normal, but the world was still and I could hear the quietness. I could look up and see the sky. Even though there was nothing worth seeing, I could see that this was worth seeing anywhere in the world. Under the sky the world seemed vast and that’s what I will share.
Underneath normality there must still be beauty. It is just question of you wanting to discover it.