He sits there unnoticed like yesterday’s coffee, leaving a mark on his space in the world. The cup he was handed, his name in gold letters, sullied by drips from his lips from his words. Mellowed to coolness, a bit soured by time. A layer of cream that floats on the top hides the punch of caffeine that came with the perking; the scent of it dissipates along with his youth. The steam of ideas has melted away with the time and the glow of the screen that he stares at for hours for days for years till retirement and a world that seems far, far away.
New Media Moment: It seems that my writing, especially any poetic thoughts, are being visualized since taking the new media course. Growing, changing the thought process with images. Adding the graphics, the background, the sound and the layers to the flatness of text.
I’ve been spoiled forevermore for one-dimensional thinking.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
I like. I have seen that person. Thanks for putting “it” in print. Must be an interesting class.