This is where my thoughts go.....You're reading my mind!

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Monday, November 3, 2014

Rust

Earth. Dust. Like water on unprotected metal after two days. The color of the axe and the tree and the ground were all the same. It hadn't rained in three months. At least there was wood.

He would stack the brown wood up in three layers. Each piece criss crossing the other in bundles of two. And light them up under a black pot. He remembered when the pot was new. And silver. Bright and shiny. He could even see his face in it.

I'm trying to work on my descriptive writing. So there'll be short pieces here from time to time. Your comments would be of help.

Afrigator