tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56573645866728624752024-03-13T16:04:26.876+01:00Life in PoetryPoems susanSusan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comBlogger130125truetag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-59450089327757093312022-10-04T11:41:00.000+02:002023-10-09T15:25:47.541+02:00⌗Weekend Writing Prompt-Superimpose-Woman and Nature<p> <strong>Welcome to another blog hop of Sammi's Weekend Writing prompt.</strong></p><p><strong>If you would like to know more and join in the fun </strong></p><p><a href="//sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2022/10/01/weekend-writing-prompt-279-superimpose/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">visit here</a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy86wzkNk40vDeAHLKbVbC-nL5rbxbYstxsymDDQW5gn-CFeiW9C0FKQOgNE8fyHRr0CFMyi-HXG8_ARlIwGOZT9giY-ChRj6oHnrsaJko5HP6r2-DDM6QFQJw2SN9BUFF9vkNBCed70r3R3UiPpvd5ccYjIRBp7y0BaRmH5Swr_Eb-jiTs1WHtFkYYg/s610/wk-279-superimpose.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="483" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjy86wzkNk40vDeAHLKbVbC-nL5rbxbYstxsymDDQW5gn-CFeiW9C0FKQOgNE8fyHRr0CFMyi-HXG8_ARlIwGOZT9giY-ChRj6oHnrsaJko5HP6r2-DDM6QFQJw2SN9BUFF9vkNBCed70r3R3UiPpvd5ccYjIRBp7y0BaRmH5Swr_Eb-jiTs1WHtFkYYg/s320/wk-279-superimpose.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p style="text-align: left;"><strong style="text-align: start;">Woman and Nature</strong></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Thoughts rush through. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Leave an imprint on my mood. </p><p style="text-align: left;">Anticipation brightens my morning.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Slice branches, trim bushes </p><p style="text-align: left;">to busy my body.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Memories build up, </p><p style="text-align: left;">superimpose on a cartload. </p><p style="text-align: left;">They impose a self </p><p style="text-align: left;">I do not wish for.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Shake off the costume. Breathe in, </p><p style="text-align: left;">out. Touch the sky, reach my toes.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;">Gaze at cloud sculptures, </p><p style="text-align: left;">start afresh.</p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><strong>Thank you for reading. Please feel free to leave a comment and discover other contributions.</strong></p><p style="text-align: left;"><strong><br /></strong></p><p style="text-align: left;">The Dronne in The Dordogne, May July 2020</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9VQ8XMIxeChJiiLLVVnOs78-yNFPkLRVnhB909CZpOEZ1y3dmc1qfS4beb_vFvn2zrSHSnbKw0-rg68k77sPyJ-9DOjggugg6gEmjWaK3G62SQPoWjf5_UyblgXrw7ve0KzK07fG36VneKvNjOqS_k0410ncNMo52X3MQMEPImvT_jCdDvyPXCIW6w/s3648/DSCN2251.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="3648" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx9VQ8XMIxeChJiiLLVVnOs78-yNFPkLRVnhB909CZpOEZ1y3dmc1qfS4beb_vFvn2zrSHSnbKw0-rg68k77sPyJ-9DOjggugg6gEmjWaK3G62SQPoWjf5_UyblgXrw7ve0KzK07fG36VneKvNjOqS_k0410ncNMo52X3MQMEPImvT_jCdDvyPXCIW6w/w320-h240/DSCN2251.JPG" title="The Dronne in The Dordogne, May July 2020" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div>Jardins des Martels, July 2021<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTEVQjXn7a6Av1EBSs4o-gyc3Ww5qXy5GYgCb7-hx6VMCT0RuiZdWZA8soBttc_x4sXpiUyTE4fdXNGbOegoH8TLeBN1-os9XBFyyapBE_LBrqvCZTL_iKxLcDF5n1EkiWZLF4vRw4ljHycPuRLCRJS2vLuysJ9aaJj0w54P7f4yKulsv1Bkh5scC4qw/s3648/DSCN3897.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2736" data-original-width="3648" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTEVQjXn7a6Av1EBSs4o-gyc3Ww5qXy5GYgCb7-hx6VMCT0RuiZdWZA8soBttc_x4sXpiUyTE4fdXNGbOegoH8TLeBN1-os9XBFyyapBE_LBrqvCZTL_iKxLcDF5n1EkiWZLF4vRw4ljHycPuRLCRJS2vLuysJ9aaJj0w54P7f4yKulsv1Bkh5scC4qw/w320-h240/DSCN3897.JPG" title="Jardins des Martels, July 2021" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><p style="text-align: left;"><br /></p><br /><p><br /></p><p><a rel="noopener" target="_blank"><br /></a></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-85847262009225533212022-09-29T13:40:00.000+02:002022-09-29T13:40:27.503+02:00⌗FridayFictioneers-The Lanterns- 30th September 2022<p> Welcome to Friday Fictioneers 30th September 2022, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.</p><figure class="wp-block-image size-large"><img alt="" class="wp-image-2849" src="https://lifeinpoetryhome.files.wordpress.com/2022/09/image-6.png?w=600" /></figure><p>Today's Photo Prompt</p><figure class="wp-block-image size-large"><img alt="" class="wp-image-2851" src="https://lifeinpoetryhome.files.wordpress.com/2022/09/lamps.jpg?w=807" /><figcaption class="wp-element-caption">Photo Prompt ©RochelleWisoff-Fields</figcaption></figure><p></p><p>To learn more and participate visit </p><p><a href="https://rochellewisoff.com/" rel="noopener" target="_blank">here</a></p><p></p><figure class="wp-block-image size-large"><img alt="" class="wp-image-2853" src="https://lifeinpoetryhome.files.wordpress.com/2022/09/computer-frog.jpg.webp?w=436" /><figcaption class="wp-element-caption">©RochelleWisoff-Fields</figcaption></figure><p><a href="https://fresh.inlinkz.com/party/6e0ed68deacd4cdb8e996462141bdba7" rel="noopener" target="_blank">to link up go to</a></p><p>The Lanterns</p><p></p><p>Sandra turned her key and was greeted by silence. An eerie light pervaded the dark room. Two dusty lanterns glowed from the counter. 'Where did those come from ?' she wondered. A grip of dread tightened her stomach. She glanced around: the couch's shadow, a twinkle from the coffee table, fading sun casting an orange hue.</p><p>She heard a scuffle from the kitchen; her heart jumped into her mouth. Her eyes were suddenly blinded by a fierce beam.</p><p>" Surprise ! Happy Birthday, Sandra. "</p><p>She blinked at the chorus. A twinkling candled cake welcomed her home.</p><p>92 words.</p><p></p><p>Thank you for reading. Wishing you a pleasant day.</p><figure class="wp-block-image size-large"><img alt="" class="wp-image-1946" src="https://lifeinpoetryhome.files.wordpress.com/2021/08/14c4c-dscn3959.jpg?w=1000" /><figcaption class="wp-element-caption">Rising Sun Brittany July 2021©susanbauryrouchard</figcaption></figure><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-88078819586617149242022-09-26T14:15:00.000+02:002022-09-26T14:15:19.852+02:00⌗Weekend Writing Prompt VIABLE<p> Welcome to another prompt from Sammi's Weekend Writing.</p><p>To learn more and participate <a href="https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2022/09/24/weekend-writing-prompt-278-viable/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">go to</a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZSXbVV1pMriWINMzLJn1P7w9scXJv7no5Po1d10NONn1NdCzzwYtbLG70Fgb3xfvzBPKdgIijEuJ1IkcfaFOnocS8CbOpYJZQyO9gzTg_LDlDMVBjyJQWdnvyDY6g2gxlAaaTWIrUmweRxjgMVMaOop_SdfrWlbCmzxHUTsAkQscI7hi5mRpKzZxa1A/s610/wk-278-viable.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="483" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZSXbVV1pMriWINMzLJn1P7w9scXJv7no5Po1d10NONn1NdCzzwYtbLG70Fgb3xfvzBPKdgIijEuJ1IkcfaFOnocS8CbOpYJZQyO9gzTg_LDlDMVBjyJQWdnvyDY6g2gxlAaaTWIrUmweRxjgMVMaOop_SdfrWlbCmzxHUTsAkQscI7hi5mRpKzZxa1A/s320/wk-278-viable.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Banana, the black cat won't drink from his water dish when placed in the garage next to his food. </p><p>He prefers to lap up the rainwater from the gutter chute, the puddles left on the garden chairs or the droplets gathered in hollows from the car roof.</p><p>We've tried the step to the office door or the floor in the kitchen, the table when breakfasting. No experiment is viable. Likewise, a place to curl up, sleep.</p><p>A cat will follow its fancy.</p><p><br /></p><p>Thank you for reading. Please leave a comment or visit other contributions.</p><div><br /></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8J4Ly4x9VFg4c0wnpTUHyAX_W8TRzzfr6cAjFx4YgsrzoA3yaXA7aV_b988kJZRtZ5k2bc7eptZi8HXSR2IMVAKfobB2kJMhxfJWR7nOuQWXfxV1Q7qQZufJm4AnkRbK7XIpiQrLBdQXsQVO3FfA5z3HycCkdchkKG2AEasHSxEZrxzr3ZlDN4a-3fw/s2592/IMG_0395.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1936" data-original-width="2592" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8J4Ly4x9VFg4c0wnpTUHyAX_W8TRzzfr6cAjFx4YgsrzoA3yaXA7aV_b988kJZRtZ5k2bc7eptZi8HXSR2IMVAKfobB2kJMhxfJWR7nOuQWXfxV1Q7qQZufJm4AnkRbK7XIpiQrLBdQXsQVO3FfA5z3HycCkdchkKG2AEasHSxEZrxzr3ZlDN4a-3fw/s320/IMG_0395.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>you can also follow me on Wordpress, go to <a href="https://lifeinpoetry.home.blog" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Life in Poetry</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comToulouse, France43.604652 1.44420915.294418163821156 -33.712041 71.914885836178854 36.600459tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-42858890698725487882022-09-17T11:39:00.005+02:002022-09-17T12:11:11.628+02:00⌗FRIDAY FICTIONNEERS 16th September 2022 - Meeting on a Bridge<p> <b>Welcome to another week of Friday Fictionneers to know more <a href="https://www.rochellewisoff.com" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">visit here</a></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMyKHcR2O5ks9sD4j-5oE4pRmaGzJAokZ5Uiw8XcewZKFtbH82DzX9U2BNdKsb9ROsUUC4lpU8yWwkkeWiFf0IqXlCUN01-Eh8OJJgXtXUeDuVuvUBqeRmD-SSKJs0__Y3HYrOofiWZPkAFaFfBdT0u_P43giMkse5ZOAWoGtYIjm65fsQXTps2KDQA/s400/big-bird-with-ff-rules-1.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="266" data-original-width="400" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwMyKHcR2O5ks9sD4j-5oE4pRmaGzJAokZ5Uiw8XcewZKFtbH82DzX9U2BNdKsb9ROsUUC4lpU8yWwkkeWiFf0IqXlCUN01-Eh8OJJgXtXUeDuVuvUBqeRmD-SSKJs0__Y3HYrOofiWZPkAFaFfBdT0u_P43giMkse5ZOAWoGtYIjm65fsQXTps2KDQA/s320/big-bird-with-ff-rules-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>This week's photo prompt</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5pXtnmLKH2xwLtbrjVynyM20C2vFWyRCu1cK0ECtrDdTj58PFN7JXomlXdiBZT4G6Xa2gkOLwFwl6_pNR-krn-RmM_mTQ9IaTA4j0piE5mYkXfBIXJgthyqpQgml0OlavGkFHf_dWnOIRzeAyQCBEUCB9ee_pXFcTnspvLgZKZukMMP3wVBwliCGeqQ/s960/image-1.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="722" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5pXtnmLKH2xwLtbrjVynyM20C2vFWyRCu1cK0ECtrDdTj58PFN7JXomlXdiBZT4G6Xa2gkOLwFwl6_pNR-krn-RmM_mTQ9IaTA4j0piE5mYkXfBIXJgthyqpQgml0OlavGkFHf_dWnOIRzeAyQCBEUCB9ee_pXFcTnspvLgZKZukMMP3wVBwliCGeqQ/s320/image-1.png" width="241" /></a></div><br /><p>Thank you to Rochelle Wiseloff and Trish Nankeville. </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGLq1zY097md6gXCTrLf715fGS-P-WjRizTWXUO5whTWFE9_2vDnnMwAYkYi7hxWxKf7U0BYaJ6iHDcql10ZBWhFC5qoKtwh4fUHePP2hkBW8YEbcFk2P7OaYdi6PV_mSsnAo8GYUf0RG7I3KxgQpBYAAn1H2b333fAESUNSJtECJ_M2lizf_ytMzIA/s1155/000.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1155" data-original-width="740" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYGLq1zY097md6gXCTrLf715fGS-P-WjRizTWXUO5whTWFE9_2vDnnMwAYkYi7hxWxKf7U0BYaJ6iHDcql10ZBWhFC5qoKtwh4fUHePP2hkBW8YEbcFk2P7OaYdi6PV_mSsnAo8GYUf0RG7I3KxgQpBYAAn1H2b333fAESUNSJtECJ_M2lizf_ytMzIA/s320/000.jpg" width="205" /></a></div><br /><p><a href="https://fresh.inlinkz.com/party/8cdce785be88481b844f287576f07f43" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">to participate, click here</a><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b><span style="font-size: large;">Meeting on a bridge</span></b></p><p><b>She cycled through the tall grass on the beaten track. Primroses, red campions and forget-me-nots bowed to her flowing braid. Out of breath, she paused. She stepped off her machine, careful not to catch her petticoat in the stokes. She gazed over the meadow swaying with pinks, blues and white, onwards to the sparkling reflexion of the river.</b></p><p><b><span> On the stone bridge, she could distinguish a lonely figure learning on the parapet. His battered hat confirmed that he was already waiting, for her.</span><br /></b></p><p><b><span><span> Grace strode her bicycle once more and flew towards him. As she descended the slope, her pedals ran away with her wheels. Her stuttered "Aaaah !" startled Martin who looked up from the water. he just had time to see her land in a heap of legs and brush on the threshold to the bridge before he dashed to her.</span><br /></span></b></p><p><b><span><span><span> As Martin bent over Grace to offer her his hand, he plucked a foxglove from her tangled hair.</span><br /></span></span></b></p><p><b><span><span><span><span> "What an extraordinary plant !" he exclaimed, "how did you manage that ?"</span><br /></span></span></span></b></p><p><b><span><span><span><span><span> "Help me up you fool, instead of asking stupid questions ", Grace barked.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></b></p><p><b><span><span><span><span><span>©susanbauryrouchard</span></span></span></span></span></b></p><p><b><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></b></p><p><b><span><span><span><span><span>Hope you enjoyed it.</span></span></span></span></span></b></p><p><b><span><span><span><span><span>Inspired by sequences from the film Enola Holmes.</span></span></span></span></span></b></p><p><b><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></b></p><p><b><span><span><span><span></span></span></span></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span><span><span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgEQEWai5xT5o0KbFWgOD7bdt7z7acxwyT_j-x6b4bDYwgOn1t7OFZcfhd2x8vP0v7hs377CCTFc7RNru1ll6mqzZygSTZK1qgd565vZOu29hSDbEVxE2pNWAkjriaGyFx9Ssjeh6ceVyTRbFUrt577f0izjumfwTgsowTH1q86Y4Phj0X1jUhzD1BFw/s1120/Camino%20por%20las%20altas%20hierbas-Renoir.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1120" height="257" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgEQEWai5xT5o0KbFWgOD7bdt7z7acxwyT_j-x6b4bDYwgOn1t7OFZcfhd2x8vP0v7hs377CCTFc7RNru1ll6mqzZygSTZK1qgd565vZOu29hSDbEVxE2pNWAkjriaGyFx9Ssjeh6ceVyTRbFUrt577f0izjumfwTgsowTH1q86Y4Phj0X1jUhzD1BFw/s320/Camino%20por%20las%20altas%20hierbas-Renoir.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></span></b></div><b><span><span><span><br /><span>Thank you for visiting. You can also follow me on Wordpress at Life in Poetry <a href="https://lifeinpoetry.home.blog/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a></span></span></span></span></b><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-45247216521266375692022-09-13T10:27:00.001+02:002022-09-13T10:42:08.861+02:00⌗276Weekend Writing Prompt - HEALING. Sunday 11th September 2022<!-- wp:paragraph -->
<p><b>Thank you to Sammi Cox for creating this weekly challenge if you would like to know more and join in the inspiration</b></p>
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<p><a href="http://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com">Go to</a></p>
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<p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhKFtaikOno33_0XTjJ2EessX9xU9OTNrZHUnNiNL5HG9sdM-HB6trRSOEygVieVen1dWIirLHj42PefaithZYNa9SJxg9qJ_-ArX-4-mpkc8hH6DT-VWKG_B4jVPvyfDas_1uvpJD-C927hOLN9GRSNEmKGUcEeUzMMagXoNNSQA5uK0EoKNRztedkA/s610/wk-276-bandage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="610" data-original-width="483" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhKFtaikOno33_0XTjJ2EessX9xU9OTNrZHUnNiNL5HG9sdM-HB6trRSOEygVieVen1dWIirLHj42PefaithZYNa9SJxg9qJ_-ArX-4-mpkc8hH6DT-VWKG_B4jVPvyfDas_1uvpJD-C927hOLN9GRSNEmKGUcEeUzMMagXoNNSQA5uK0EoKNRztedkA/s320/wk-276-bandage.jpg" width="253" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Healing</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p>
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<p>Sun streaming on desk,</p>
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<p>plans hatching, rain reviving </p>
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<p>desires.</p><p><br /></p>
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<p>I’ve put a bandage on my mourning.</p>
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<p>One step at a time.</p><p><br /></p>
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<p>Reaching out again, fueled by news</p>
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<p>From loved ones. A respite on the horizon,</p>
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<p>waves lapping peaceful coves.</p><p><br /></p>
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<p>Don’t rip it off, or pick at the scab,</p>
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<p>scratch till your nails draw blood.</p><p><br /></p>
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<p>Time and the long road of healing.</p>
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<p><b>©susanbauryrouchard</b></p><p><b><br /></b></p>
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<p><b>Thank you for reading. Please leave your thoughts or just say hello. Please read some more participants’ inspired pieces.</b></p>
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<!-- /wp:more --><p> </p><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-23523872917968454932021-11-29T11:34:00.003+01:002022-09-17T10:32:34.377+02:00⌗Friday Fictioneers- 3rd DECEMBER 2021<p> Welcome to another week of <i><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Friday Fictioneers</span></i></p><p>if you would like to know more and join in the fun <a href="https://rochellewisoff.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">visit here</a></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjB-M5deHSw0aZsEeG7zqG95kZC8qTqc3OChUJtsNJxhUH_kgklYXGFgROOhNBQ_Ccv1spii9hgbi9G0wAkhjTv6ozFiRvXFis2ueNMcexD6dGy0390nUK6_F5HetGRH_RgbQX9bihVNN-dSEn6zEpTr2XZ3-LlmJUUVAWBhILXF_VJhEnnSdhstWBCKA=s560" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="419" data-original-width="560" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjB-M5deHSw0aZsEeG7zqG95kZC8qTqc3OChUJtsNJxhUH_kgklYXGFgROOhNBQ_Ccv1spii9hgbi9G0wAkhjTv6ozFiRvXFis2ueNMcexD6dGy0390nUK6_F5HetGRH_RgbQX9bihVNN-dSEn6zEpTr2XZ3-LlmJUUVAWBhILXF_VJhEnnSdhstWBCKA=w400-h299" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-68671657000678813782021-11-29T11:31:00.006+01:002022-09-13T10:41:46.468+02:00⌗IWSG-DECEMBER-2021<p> Welcome to another post of the Insecure Writers Support Group</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB30_u84fIsdgpR0zXBYwQ0oOcuhy31KeCdYrgUehHtJCAwfP58Z7McDg00ThjODHbJMbPvxc95dNP_aNsidsFUmVv7B0jQDMbjgGpe-L1rs9MmS5mxgOHjsx7z8TmZCa9EFY48JTGmX9q/s1080/IWSG+Admin.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="1080" height="107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB30_u84fIsdgpR0zXBYwQ0oOcuhy31KeCdYrgUehHtJCAwfP58Z7McDg00ThjODHbJMbPvxc95dNP_aNsidsFUmVv7B0jQDMbjgGpe-L1rs9MmS5mxgOHjsx7z8TmZCa9EFY48JTGmX9q/s320/IWSG+Admin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnrrqDFK0GTaAp2-QbR-aAFQ-ts_Hnxszk6jWYqTNBOI27Shvzk4gvU0LkCsCf3ircEmyTryIv7l4-183SquBfomtTSchDMB0HzE225qVUlaJYL_iugAHQYTsiIBo19cathaW32BFiFRix/s236/100+best+websites+for+writers+2021+winner+badge.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="236" data-original-width="236" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnrrqDFK0GTaAp2-QbR-aAFQ-ts_Hnxszk6jWYqTNBOI27Shvzk4gvU0LkCsCf3ircEmyTryIv7l4-183SquBfomtTSchDMB0HzE225qVUlaJYL_iugAHQYTsiIBo19cathaW32BFiFRix/s0/100+best+websites+for+writers+2021+winner+badge.png" width="236" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">If you would like to know more about the IWSG and sign up</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">visit here</a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="background-color: #f4f2f8; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Every month, we announce a question that members can answer in their IWSG post. These questions may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Include your answer to the question in your IWSG post or let it inspire your post if you are struggling with something to say. </span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Remember, the question is optional!</b></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-29649106199473555642021-11-04T11:47:00.003+01:002021-11-29T11:33:14.008+01:00⌗FridayFictioneers-5thNovember 2021- Just one minute<p>Welcome to another week of <i><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Friday Fictioneers</span></i></p><p>if you would like to know more and join in the fun <a href="https://rochellewisoff.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">visit here</a></p><p><br /></p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjB-M5deHSw0aZsEeG7zqG95kZC8qTqc3OChUJtsNJxhUH_kgklYXGFgROOhNBQ_Ccv1spii9hgbi9G0wAkhjTv6ozFiRvXFis2ueNMcexD6dGy0390nUK6_F5HetGRH_RgbQX9bihVNN-dSEn6zEpTr2XZ3-LlmJUUVAWBhILXF_VJhEnnSdhstWBCKA=s560" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="419" data-original-width="560" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjB-M5deHSw0aZsEeG7zqG95kZC8qTqc3OChUJtsNJxhUH_kgklYXGFgROOhNBQ_Ccv1spii9hgbi9G0wAkhjTv6ozFiRvXFis2ueNMcexD6dGy0390nUK6_F5HetGRH_RgbQX9bihVNN-dSEn6zEpTr2XZ3-LlmJUUVAWBhILXF_VJhEnnSdhstWBCKA=w400-h299" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p>This week's Photo Prompt brought to you by Jennifer. Legos.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjF3NaOxV8akRjjSL5SIT_R3MgzlHjoFsFN0twFI6Yan_EM-haYdQVGqMOkzSc19q_eDxP2WvYSGboiBVh3IPc1dC7I_-06l7WvjpjYVayYTh7two2XHFvWGBPlavpSsXyKjSsDpjAIB4oDG-2l4_mCwiTKI2kqSpGGbzFrBBq8b0vvWL4xkxWmsWIoHg=s824" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="824" data-original-width="608" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjF3NaOxV8akRjjSL5SIT_R3MgzlHjoFsFN0twFI6Yan_EM-haYdQVGqMOkzSc19q_eDxP2WvYSGboiBVh3IPc1dC7I_-06l7WvjpjYVayYTh7two2XHFvWGBPlavpSsXyKjSsDpjAIB4oDG-2l4_mCwiTKI2kqSpGGbzFrBBq8b0vvWL4xkxWmsWIoHg=w295-h400" width="295" /></a></div><br /><p>To link up</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgX_tuXHNqY8uEdCJwvGG3YbbU5DdmFB0f0vWJWLc75tfvIojWxueJzsGOGhdasCspKF-w1oYy9-QA9cRQPhJyshkkfWMgcVBRXyU6RP4HKitKx70KbH-mikwnWkLKYfRVQa2pjb_3fZqwA7Pj-YhZGdjibJDf0uwOzAZWBhEcKSlq79aNbBdWB6vSivw=s309" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="173" data-original-width="309" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgX_tuXHNqY8uEdCJwvGG3YbbU5DdmFB0f0vWJWLc75tfvIojWxueJzsGOGhdasCspKF-w1oYy9-QA9cRQPhJyshkkfWMgcVBRXyU6RP4HKitKx70KbH-mikwnWkLKYfRVQa2pjb_3fZqwA7Pj-YhZGdjibJDf0uwOzAZWBhEcKSlq79aNbBdWB6vSivw=w400-h224" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://fresh.inlinkz.com/party/c85bbf36c338458f88b24710aeaf37a0" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Click to play here</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">and visit all the wonderful inspired stories.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"> <b><span style="font-size: medium;">"Just one Minute"</span></b><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span> </span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">"Time to go Benji."</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">'Have to get the fire engine to the scene,' Benji was thinking , absorbed in his imaginary adventure. 'Round the corner, past the hydrant; park next to the oak tree'. It was shedding golden leaves while some boys were kicking a football haphazardly. 'Hook up to avoid the flames', only feet away from hitting the line of gasoline creeping towards the porch steps. The hose finally sprouted a steady arc of water. Just in time, just in time.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><span> "Ready now, Mum."</span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span>Thanks for reading. Have fun perusing the list.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><span><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><b>Autumn Colours</b><div><b>St Bertrand de Comminges, Pyrenees.</b></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiQq8xdXAC-CEePRppHga7AiU6wefU7wWm3S9CdEn_j4Yf9Q_s0gUlb8p3-Vj_YCfM5re1X7fcKmZI2FRVEZ1_MDrrmI7CpscIewjaF2uqTMBWbwX_kfDKjSLApZ9KknV6v0JitfAgAkNj8vBFwYe92Ltyt2kpL_B7IGiYTEdxVHm42I2vJW_oq2v-HKg=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiQq8xdXAC-CEePRppHga7AiU6wefU7wWm3S9CdEn_j4Yf9Q_s0gUlb8p3-Vj_YCfM5re1X7fcKmZI2FRVEZ1_MDrrmI7CpscIewjaF2uqTMBWbwX_kfDKjSLApZ9KknV6v0JitfAgAkNj8vBFwYe92Ltyt2kpL_B7IGiYTEdxVHm42I2vJW_oq2v-HKg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgymCpfFg5E1qzHhkr6068O0kb6lBv4t0M3bmHyR6iw35dM4NRMcN5dUY9cpkyf9l_Nwup28r5fFgmi5-7tT1c8J-JclRZcdPQv0urfdacY-Qu9JcZ4f0bxzISxK8cfs9BzR3LLGVW7L5DnvrEgbf7Y34dhDz5avBTx1JiwlGOc7esGnEbGRjQsRMzirQ=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgymCpfFg5E1qzHhkr6068O0kb6lBv4t0M3bmHyR6iw35dM4NRMcN5dUY9cpkyf9l_Nwup28r5fFgmi5-7tT1c8J-JclRZcdPQv0urfdacY-Qu9JcZ4f0bxzISxK8cfs9BzR3LLGVW7L5DnvrEgbf7Y34dhDz5avBTx1JiwlGOc7esGnEbGRjQsRMzirQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJWEfhRzJhKiF9yzZrlUpR0Z1HuMMc4e9vSMiRp8JOZ7nge04GvXgtOl1hxsp7A41rEkKHSQcxsfWUsZPUYTYkbBwkqepezb6436HRSB18h1V0Q2L8uM2zIUU55iZU7g0D-fJEHHJeKOXQeqysc2uqU-J_mNg4dyKWasOfoydPnwDmxYrrVvR4X4tchg=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjJWEfhRzJhKiF9yzZrlUpR0Z1HuMMc4e9vSMiRp8JOZ7nge04GvXgtOl1hxsp7A41rEkKHSQcxsfWUsZPUYTYkbBwkqepezb6436HRSB18h1V0Q2L8uM2zIUU55iZU7g0D-fJEHHJeKOXQeqysc2uqU-J_mNg4dyKWasOfoydPnwDmxYrrVvR4X4tchg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgw3IVv5DUj3iQeTcUbO0DqT22LguUIRbE287FezkUONDsMsUAze3td7jfTR_W6Ylixj05FqDGYXOG2lLOBHVI6k8IBEpNDmmtq5bTENoH-TC_sgN2RNQ4mBxbMv1_c60m585sAzatvhawRP68RjhAmRkgyZrdRGGEd8_wqH17gYSrqwU0j-fdefAznCQ=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgw3IVv5DUj3iQeTcUbO0DqT22LguUIRbE287FezkUONDsMsUAze3td7jfTR_W6Ylixj05FqDGYXOG2lLOBHVI6k8IBEpNDmmtq5bTENoH-TC_sgN2RNQ4mBxbMv1_c60m585sAzatvhawRP68RjhAmRkgyZrdRGGEd8_wqH17gYSrqwU0j-fdefAznCQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjtfMazfqtB59QtGA9-kefo2EDLcZDkiNPiknKv-AgJe3A1Ua9SHJT-E573bCzGuZVWeF1M-IMMFRaoN4ntnrpy4rcdd3OEBphscOjAE6OIY7-LYCAFdhF97D_QeueRNv2E0ejZeod2NAB7z5g8qO6dcTM4rFRT9aj9z0NRsdcQgYzfaG3N3iZrkCAJg=s2048" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgjtfMazfqtB59QtGA9-kefo2EDLcZDkiNPiknKv-AgJe3A1Ua9SHJT-E573bCzGuZVWeF1M-IMMFRaoN4ntnrpy4rcdd3OEBphscOjAE6OIY7-LYCAFdhF97D_QeueRNv2E0ejZeod2NAB7z5g8qO6dcTM4rFRT9aj9z0NRsdcQgYzfaG3N3iZrkCAJg=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-81726061058056328182021-10-15T12:40:00.002+02:002022-09-17T11:39:40.491+02:00⌗FRIDAY FICTIONEERS-15th October- Carousel ride<p> Welcome to another week of <i><span style="color: #2b00fe;">Friday Fictionneers</span></i></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhloYeKH00po2CWnl_TlOpCDjvQjd55QCIaU8PN24cwea3Zf-xkg0DMfMW-MrJrS-Q52IAFEfuErCyH1JF85jkLPSkQORVGn58Jng98hoB_5XCRRBu_1hSzf1hwUtZbPdq726QhoVTZuFLRnXiSQrF43-uJGdlbTyZxUnFPTLLfg2sG9pUBwF_LbdCJdQ=s600" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhloYeKH00po2CWnl_TlOpCDjvQjd55QCIaU8PN24cwea3Zf-xkg0DMfMW-MrJrS-Q52IAFEfuErCyH1JF85jkLPSkQORVGn58Jng98hoB_5XCRRBu_1hSzf1hwUtZbPdq726QhoVTZuFLRnXiSQrF43-uJGdlbTyZxUnFPTLLfg2sG9pUBwF_LbdCJdQ=w400-h266" width="400" /></a></div><p></p><p>if you would like to know more and join in the fun <a href="https://rochellewisoff.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">visit here</a></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Today's photo prompt brought by ©Brenda Cox</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3AMhfPtd4vmr2SFkImFwyX4LIxKo27NOw8GLreCCPam_IBFnqHQQtCro5AjDczrLUqgPnxmc-tZcn3zA5iZRl1ztEaej9TMDkmbBVR9UkX54fDClt5ipbm0wXTaBfbfhpauC9FPintcni9DsXl-e83U0kGhJU18Nq9huZS5XXlash88V-DD446by8Lw=s1024" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="812" data-original-width="1024" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj3AMhfPtd4vmr2SFkImFwyX4LIxKo27NOw8GLreCCPam_IBFnqHQQtCro5AjDczrLUqgPnxmc-tZcn3zA5iZRl1ztEaej9TMDkmbBVR9UkX54fDClt5ipbm0wXTaBfbfhpauC9FPintcni9DsXl-e83U0kGhJU18Nq9huZS5XXlash88V-DD446by8Lw=w400-h318" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">to link up</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYy1yFGPI8QkhkgLbFKbFSc0SfDc5w0XQUxCLfz4HQOGIjycYOEmO3uIMxnSC4QM62QPBrYcqGw0Lj-GZeuBcDKEz2o4sto8Pryzb3AINuEY9YxfiBGaRxv2x39CzfjlCjQgLkGt5gj-7yv1auAVNJkJlLzo6yrl_WMZxyAr80ObiWTlRNU0BVUtjxtQ=s152" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="152" data-original-width="115" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjYy1yFGPI8QkhkgLbFKbFSc0SfDc5w0XQUxCLfz4HQOGIjycYOEmO3uIMxnSC4QM62QPBrYcqGw0Lj-GZeuBcDKEz2o4sto8Pryzb3AINuEY9YxfiBGaRxv2x39CzfjlCjQgLkGt5gj-7yv1auAVNJkJlLzo6yrl_WMZxyAr80ObiWTlRNU0BVUtjxtQ=w303-h400" width="303" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://fresh.inlinkz.com/party/b860389247614f34af44aa725e83c38b" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">CLICK TO RIDE</a></div><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">"I want a ride on the elephant"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">"Me, on the pumpkin carriage"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">"I got to the spaceship before that redhead"</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Wee, round and round, up and down. Dizzy, elated, drunk on pure pleasure. Carousel music plays on a large painted organ in the corner. A disquieting clown opens his mouth to reveal his brass tube teeth, in time with the cymbals.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Out of control, screams. The old man crawls under the platform, swings up from a hole and gently eases the lever. Phew ! The dizzy young'uns stumble from their mounts and recover by sinking their jaws into toffee apple, cotton candy.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Thank you for reading. Visit all the gifted scribblers on the link up.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">Rodgers and Hammerstein's <i>Carousel</i>, original <b>abc</b> television soundtrack.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Rbnnlxx-BYs" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">listen here</a><br /></span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">some videos of my own, my three children, from Chattanooga, North Carolina, April 2008.</span></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dx5UYy-ZZQRsvwyBEFb0_sPAr6fj2ynZAubnsdNaVrfnlHcWnzEi0vnndGOFxcMPceMIiHvn-EcIAsK8MFfIA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwSvv9ujhCemfYe5eWzm-MpeQkzdPfPXIHdMSn_FqKs50xhEFApJbrp14uRCCsOwTfYylsHQpoKqkcaxfz8Cw' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p><span style="font-family: helvetica; font-size: medium;">More photos of Carousels</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiuUWYH8Q1uxprQwImJamZ877A8RJQoLahh8pwLs1Y4JNEiiXVGGnx17E_-LeDrtuJ1AsbSNqlI0RsSXgQgF76q1awRx-LSDopuD7De4fmlkjesMCiddOwwmUxDvX4DjJpo6fuS2KYLzrL3m-X1Ch9Nv90f-CUW883ezaN8ilMXGpWqHDHBth-m8C7uKA=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="2048" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiuUWYH8Q1uxprQwImJamZ877A8RJQoLahh8pwLs1Y4JNEiiXVGGnx17E_-LeDrtuJ1AsbSNqlI0RsSXgQgF76q1awRx-LSDopuD7De4fmlkjesMCiddOwwmUxDvX4DjJpo6fuS2KYLzrL3m-X1Ch9Nv90f-CUW883ezaN8ilMXGpWqHDHBth-m8C7uKA=w400-h274" width="400" /></a></div><p style="text-align: center;">My first born and I, Bournemouth 1997</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiaZir9Rvft-hWrd8uvjuHjD-YOsUKn2ROClc1nLhi9ToaXjJhnU3OGAOYOS2g0w-rF6cghMJw0sxc0-aHq3DsfhcgA0BHuKuOifYehuU9Xj-39E5Uf9pEHc__q4SLKzwz4meL7ESQKPnDguRBunRZ4SXjN3EImT9DC38fmWbmLqoY-2uBE-PXQH-unFA=s2048" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1215" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiaZir9Rvft-hWrd8uvjuHjD-YOsUKn2ROClc1nLhi9ToaXjJhnU3OGAOYOS2g0w-rF6cghMJw0sxc0-aHq3DsfhcgA0BHuKuOifYehuU9Xj-39E5Uf9pEHc__q4SLKzwz4meL7ESQKPnDguRBunRZ4SXjN3EImT9DC38fmWbmLqoY-2uBE-PXQH-unFA=w381-h640" width="381" /></a></div><br /><p style="text-align: center;">above, Paris Christmas 1997</p><p style="text-align: center;">and below, </p><p style="text-align: center;">my second born Toulouse February 2001</p><p style="text-align: center;"><br /></p><p><span> </span><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-54283732251885212272021-10-08T12:42:00.018+02:002021-10-20T11:27:29.344+02:00⌗WEP-October 2021-Crossing the Bridge<p> Welcome to another posting of the Write Edit Publish blog-hop.</p><p>If you would like to know more <a href="https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">visit here and join in the fun.</a></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgXKt6_cxPk-N20rkm1DM6ebrhCe2Q5mZ_itopJFqiEJ43-bYBdxBYW9rIfiiFeN5HBc6SVu_gouuQBh8QTKjjAdvkjWQRY_YoNmWed8qltXcfKZ7yRPQLXBjCc3gy2HV9R7ycqMBYH9RklW83sWGG84nNuaZ0ASUqemAfPddhbddNS5ia5tgElSPNG4A=s1200" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgXKt6_cxPk-N20rkm1DM6ebrhCe2Q5mZ_itopJFqiEJ43-bYBdxBYW9rIfiiFeN5HBc6SVu_gouuQBh8QTKjjAdvkjWQRY_YoNmWed8qltXcfKZ7yRPQLXBjCc3gy2HV9R7ycqMBYH9RklW83sWGG84nNuaZ0ASUqemAfPddhbddNS5ia5tgElSPNG4A=s320" width="213" /></a></div><div><br /></div><br /><p>This month The Scream by Edward Munch</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiibatb4wpDRQkH4jM9y7DdOje2g9Tw7XIEgrAs7FAQh4F1fbDqwuTRuFQrIiKlRSOLMJZncNZqaFoiem_BNB0yyNzq8SpYnJ7kiZs6k3vjiSTUtKw3jUX3-gf9g4_-n_UgyU4wNG3N-jO956BP710z_os8jbXNQquO9h5QKml4rO32ZPh3iuYZroZvjQ=s1001" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1001" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiibatb4wpDRQkH4jM9y7DdOje2g9Tw7XIEgrAs7FAQh4F1fbDqwuTRuFQrIiKlRSOLMJZncNZqaFoiem_BNB0yyNzq8SpYnJ7kiZs6k3vjiSTUtKw3jUX3-gf9g4_-n_UgyU4wNG3N-jO956BP710z_os8jbXNQquO9h5QKml4rO32ZPh3iuYZroZvjQ=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><b>Crossing the Bridge</b></div><div><br /></div><div><span>The rays glanced off the rugged tip of the mountain and hit the rocks she was staring at. It felt like she had been shuffling and stumbling on this goat path for years. Yusef was skipping ahead as though they were on some kind of mad adventure. He criss-crossed in front of her, from time to time, crouching to look at a beetle or a brilliant bloom. Arysa wished she could behold her surroundings with her son's gaze. The smallest detail in the landscape seemed a window into wonder. The border appeared eons away; a day or two at the most now but so many unforeseen events could still befall them. Arysa felt her shoulders buckle at the thought.</span><br /></div><div><span><br /></span></div><div><span><span> Her mind wandered back to her native village in the green hills, the sparkle of the river as it rushed over polished stones. The coy girl which she was then, had envisioned the future stretching bright and carefree on the horizon. Omar was a catch: handsome, hard-working, tall and strong with a mischievous glint in his eye which made her laugh. Arysa's father toiled on a small patch of earth; they harvested enough though to survive and trade the surplus. Homely rituals lent rhythm to the seasons under a dry, clear sky.</span><br /></span></div><div><span><span><span> First the Soviets had come; Omar and her father fought them behind boulders among the tracks and bracken in which the invader fumbled. They couldn't just roll in with their tanks and flatten all resistance like they had in so many territories. Omar's glint dimmed but Arysa had said nothing. A wrinkle had appeared in her forehead.</span><br /></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span> "Mama, look," shouted Yusef, wrenching her from her reverie.</span><br /></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span>On the crest of the hill stood a stone temple: a mound pilled with rocks and covered with red, yellow, orange garlands, spiked with fading white petals; a serendipitous reprieve to her clouding thoughts. Yusef was already running around the cairn while she quickened her pace, gusto in her step and faith slowly expanding in her breast. The sight cast a glow in the despairing hills. Arysa smelled for the first time in months a clear, spring whiff in the air.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span> "Yusef, respect the place. It is a gift for worship and hope," she said as she came abreast.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span>The burden lifted slightly from the pit of her bowels and she remembered Kohar and Yusef, when tiny, prattling together in the meadow at sunset, immersed in some imaginary game. When the skirmishes started between opposing factions, Omar had decided to move them to Kabul. Several farms had been pillaged, hired hands murdered. The furrow between his eyebrows deepened but still Arysa had said nothing. Kohar became sullen in the city as though his true self had stayed in the hills, buried in the dirt, discarded like an old pair of linen. Again Arysa hadn't protested.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span>She brushed away the thoughts with a few strands of hair framing her cheeks and opened her heart to the joy etched on Yusef's face while he scrutinised every crevice of the temple from which rolled pieces of paper protruded.</span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Shall we leave one too ?" she asked him.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "Oh, yes ! Please Mama. You write, I'll phrase the message." Yusef clapped his fingers.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span>Arysa lifted the bag from her back, patting down the pockets in search of her small notebook. Triumphant, she extracted it finally from a thick pouch in the lining.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span><span> "So Yusef, what shall we thank and wish for ?"</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div><div> " '<i>Thank you for this sprig of flowers, the strength to continue our journey. Please keep us safe until we reach our destination and be reunited with our distant cousins</i>' ," said Yusef, loud and solemn.<br /></div><div><span> </span>"Beautiful my son. Here you go, choose where to place it"</div><div><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span>Yusef stood on the toes of his boots and slid the scroll into a smooth hole between two gold-leafed pebbles.</span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span> </span><span> They looked back once more towards the breeze in the wreaths and heard the tinkle of the bells. The winding path stretched before them down a slope, lost between boulders and shrubs. More peaks towered in the distance, some glistening in the afternoon light. Arysa wondered if she would ever cross the bridge of her sorrow and let go of her pain.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><span><span><span><span><span><span> In Kabul, Omar had found work in an uncle's grocery shop, sorting, piling, fetching: strenuous hours in the dust and pollution. The drone had hit the school the third year and they had brought Kohar's dismembered corpse back to their tiny lodgings. Arysa's scream had given way to wailing. Then for weeks, she roamed the room and streets of the city in a haze. Her mind could not fathom the future, an end to the bridge towards a possible tomorrow. Omar, distant, had grown more and more estranged and finally had lost himself to days with shady connections. Arysa had not been able to mouth any words to describe his new loyalties. Yusef stayed home with her and silently she packed the flotsam of their past. She had made her choice. They would face the long road together to join their distant family in Tajikistan. Her heart screamed in her chest but Arysa would say no more.</span><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div><div><b>©susanbauryrouchard</b></div><div><span><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span><b>Word Count 872 FCA</b></span></div><div><span><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span><b>Thank you for reading</b></span></div><div><span><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span><b>Volker Schlöndorff's Oskar's Drum, film soundtrack</b></span></div><div><span><b><i>Die Blechtrommel</i></b></span></div><div><span><b><br /></b></span></div><div><span><b><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=27gfoTm6ufg" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">listen here</a><br /></b></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-54263696031155319392021-10-07T10:13:00.000+02:002021-10-07T10:13:15.639+02:00<p> Welcome to another blog hop from <span style="color: #2b00fe; font-family: trebuchet; font-size: medium;"><i>Friday Fictionneers </i></span>.</p><p>If you would like to know more and join the fun <a href="https://www.rochellewisoff.com" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">visit here</a></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj__B4TFG5vQTLerpE7DZFyif5doN3hq7F1P00tsF0M87I3Fn1_jzhvGCWLNYkT-sqyisqdq0K13cZE-lEXLbbQ7o1P76xa-vK7LfB6UucZG_CyASjhaZRanMK6Y_ZtA_FtDIuAGJi2rKsb/s600/ff-movie-camera.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="338" data-original-width="600" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj__B4TFG5vQTLerpE7DZFyif5doN3hq7F1P00tsF0M87I3Fn1_jzhvGCWLNYkT-sqyisqdq0K13cZE-lEXLbbQ7o1P76xa-vK7LfB6UucZG_CyASjhaZRanMK6Y_ZtA_FtDIuAGJi2rKsb/w640-h360/ff-movie-camera.webp" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>Here is today's prompt</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHfWLsdGH_-uU_J3QH6m-F-72H_H8ZXAV_sJnp2seME9ypx2Tg-g580kr_8msgaVbmnJC23cFBbSbrO0X2bxlPsVGPAePkUHPZP45CGiyLq4q034Xtg-PzeanzBlcapZUrplspdgs7WeTv/s1024/roger-smapshot-1.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHfWLsdGH_-uU_J3QH6m-F-72H_H8ZXAV_sJnp2seME9ypx2Tg-g580kr_8msgaVbmnJC23cFBbSbrO0X2bxlPsVGPAePkUHPZP45CGiyLq4q034Xtg-PzeanzBlcapZUrplspdgs7WeTv/w640-h480/roger-smapshot-1.webp" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJYbb3t1jLnWVvhsJwyhjyqZCTGzzC5P5Lj844uTktLGEdhfvN6Tlcf8mKDmdcTnGYMFmdZh8dz1zpgfn-e28APopCxBUJ1rUTGNT6waccsmW6925UcOYlsO03Mk2M4VsK_Cfkctw0-Xra/s189/il_fullxfull.445722803_8z9l.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="189" data-original-width="149" height="189" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJYbb3t1jLnWVvhsJwyhjyqZCTGzzC5P5Lj844uTktLGEdhfvN6Tlcf8mKDmdcTnGYMFmdZh8dz1zpgfn-e28APopCxBUJ1rUTGNT6waccsmW6925UcOYlsO03Mk2M4VsK_Cfkctw0-Xra/s0/il_fullxfull.445722803_8z9l.webp" width="149" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://fresh.inlinkz.com/party/74a9cd0bbfde40b9ae7208dde57e5543" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">click to link up</a><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b>Fidgety Frog</b></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Fidgety frog funnels along</div><div style="text-align: center;">the fragmented fairway</div><div style="text-align: center;">frothing at the throat.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Feet frantic,</div><div style="text-align: center;">foraging through</div><div style="text-align: center;">floppy hats.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Fuming Forests loom</div><div style="text-align: center;">far on the horizon. </div><div style="text-align: center;">Frontier frosty peaks.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Feet frantic,</div><div style="text-align: center;">foraging through </div><div style="text-align: center;">floppy hats.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Fainting frog flags</div><div style="text-align: center;">fireman throwing</div><div style="text-align: center;">water on flames</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Feet frantic,</div><div style="text-align: center;">foraging through</div><div style="text-align: center;">floppy hats.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Father frog falls</div><div style="text-align: center;">foaming at the mouth,</div><div style="text-align: center;">son salvation serves.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">Thank you for reading.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">here are some old photographs of my own:</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><b>My GrandPa, Albert George Dunckley, aged 8, London, Hackney Elementary School, September 1913.</b></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBX2mGYkEdSVUU09FxbZGwkbiZFvkV2Cex5fLva-qqLZxxhpcmTqzv8KHoAThpDSXhLIh0JEmPMMe3yNOGan82v2WO_s6GDCcU4jcnhLOwetRssLH01jHAdd4Cir1bx_AQpIdcUL68z1R/s2048/Albert+George+Dunckley%2528our+grandpa%2529+8+years+old-Hackney+school+1913.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1467" data-original-width="2048" height="458" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMBX2mGYkEdSVUU09FxbZGwkbiZFvkV2Cex5fLva-qqLZxxhpcmTqzv8KHoAThpDSXhLIh0JEmPMMe3yNOGan82v2WO_s6GDCcU4jcnhLOwetRssLH01jHAdd4Cir1bx_AQpIdcUL68z1R/w640-h458/Albert+George+Dunckley%2528our+grandpa%2529+8+years+old-Hackney+school+1913.jpeg" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b>My Nana and Mother in Bournemouth, 1949</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL8wIlqTTEnuY6g2jeE_hbW45WZL-BlYE-8Q54mONigzl9Pa1vXgQ-lew6hxZd1scb9uhSF8NH7bQ3JEc25wNiKHrrVqpYe46u2b6LvMtrt-Jt1lvOxOfRJBLcDZm3alYln29mxm4k3-J2/s2048/Pat+and+Kathleen+Arter+Dunckley%2528our+nana%2529-Bournemouth+1949.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1636" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL8wIlqTTEnuY6g2jeE_hbW45WZL-BlYE-8Q54mONigzl9Pa1vXgQ-lew6hxZd1scb9uhSF8NH7bQ3JEc25wNiKHrrVqpYe46u2b6LvMtrt-Jt1lvOxOfRJBLcDZm3alYln29mxm4k3-J2/w512-h640/Pat+and+Kathleen+Arter+Dunckley%2528our+nana%2529-Bournemouth+1949.jpeg" width="512" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b></div><div><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRcMxOtE3A4X9ScvSUiC8MSIjBohxb5uD8ozgd_03vx5dlA-wwss02zY_S5gDs8F4uuzV-QT3DvoKLV0TeLTszJaVv4BbFdlgwDE7lidQ9kyXPBwEN3Mr2nmDDJrIARBhKoqdcDuJ3TQvB/s2048/DSCN0329.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRcMxOtE3A4X9ScvSUiC8MSIjBohxb5uD8ozgd_03vx5dlA-wwss02zY_S5gDs8F4uuzV-QT3DvoKLV0TeLTszJaVv4BbFdlgwDE7lidQ9kyXPBwEN3Mr2nmDDJrIARBhKoqdcDuJ3TQvB/w640-h480/DSCN0329.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>Antique Shop, taken in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, 2013<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-71945277832020311532021-10-06T10:55:00.003+02:002021-11-29T11:30:58.976+01:00⌗IWSG-Wednesday 6th October 2021-Draw the line<p> Welcome to another post of the Insecure Writers Support Group</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB30_u84fIsdgpR0zXBYwQ0oOcuhy31KeCdYrgUehHtJCAwfP58Z7McDg00ThjODHbJMbPvxc95dNP_aNsidsFUmVv7B0jQDMbjgGpe-L1rs9MmS5mxgOHjsx7z8TmZCa9EFY48JTGmX9q/s1080/IWSG+Admin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="1080" height="107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhB30_u84fIsdgpR0zXBYwQ0oOcuhy31KeCdYrgUehHtJCAwfP58Z7McDg00ThjODHbJMbPvxc95dNP_aNsidsFUmVv7B0jQDMbjgGpe-L1rs9MmS5mxgOHjsx7z8TmZCa9EFY48JTGmX9q/s320/IWSG+Admin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnrrqDFK0GTaAp2-QbR-aAFQ-ts_Hnxszk6jWYqTNBOI27Shvzk4gvU0LkCsCf3ircEmyTryIv7l4-183SquBfomtTSchDMB0HzE225qVUlaJYL_iugAHQYTsiIBo19cathaW32BFiFRix/s236/100+best+websites+for+writers+2021+winner+badge.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="236" data-original-width="236" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnrrqDFK0GTaAp2-QbR-aAFQ-ts_Hnxszk6jWYqTNBOI27Shvzk4gvU0LkCsCf3ircEmyTryIv7l4-183SquBfomtTSchDMB0HzE225qVUlaJYL_iugAHQYTsiIBo19cathaW32BFiFRix/s0/100+best+websites+for+writers+2021+winner+badge.png" width="236" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">If you would like to know more about the IWSG and sign up</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/p/iwsg-sign-up.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">visit here</a><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="background-color: #f4f2f8; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Every month, we announce a question that members can answer in their IWSG post. These questions may prompt you to share advice, insight, a personal experience or story. Include your answer to the question in your IWSG post or let it inspire your post if you are struggling with something to say. </span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="font-size: large;"><b>Remember, the question is optional!</b></span><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><span style="background-color: yellow;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b>October 6 question - In your writing, where do you draw the line, with either topics or language?</b></span></span></div><br style="background-color: #f4f2f8; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px;" /><div style="background-color: #f4f2f8; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">The awesome co-hosts for the October 6 posting of the IWSG are <a _blank="" href="http://jemimapett.com/blog/%E2%80%9Dtarget=" style="color: #3e62b4; text-decoration-line: none;">Jemima Pett,</a> <a _blank="" href="https://jlennidorner.blogspot.com/%E2%80%9Dtarget=" style="color: #3e62b4; text-decoration-line: none;">J Lenni Dorner,</a> <a href="http://cathrinaconstantine.blogspot.com/" style="color: #3e62b4; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Cathrina Constantine,</a> <a href="http://www.ronelthemythmaker.com/blog/" style="color: #3e62b4; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Ronel Janse van Vuuren,</a> and <a href="http://playoffthepage.com/" style="color: #3e62b4; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Mary Aalgaard!</a><br /><br /></span></div><div style="background-color: #f4f2f8; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><p><br /></p><p><b>My answer</b></p><p><br /></p><p>There are topics which I don't enjoy reading, so I don't enjoy writing them either: Romance notably.</p><p>Others I enjoy reading but just haven't mastered the knack to write on : Crime, Political, Historical Fiction.</p><p>I definitely draw the line in language when it comes to explicit sexual descriptions or gratuitous swearing</p><p>Otherwise I love to experiment with vocabulary, especially for painting a picture of scenes: the physical and the emotional. I particularly love the sonority of verbs and adjectives which perfectly evoke a feel of what I mean to convey. Synaesthesia, I dote on. Colours, sounds, feelings, smells jump out immediately when using certain words.</p><p>writhe, wriggle, wrench</p><p>swoop, sail, snag</p><p>hume, drift, searing</p><p>sparkle, twinkle, baffling</p><p>I also like to play around with images, sometimes mixing metaphors, which is, I know, considered an incorrect way to use an effective metaphor; but I suppose that my Franco-British heritage conjures likenesses which often overlap, creating a collage metaphor or simile that just fits the bill.</p><p>Mostly I don't overthink ideas or language when writing. The inspiring combination just seems to fly down unexpectedly to hit the page.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>how do you function ?</b></p><p><br /></p><p><b>Thank you for reading.</b></p><p><br /></p><p><b>this is how I also feel sometimes:</b></p><p><b>Véronique Samson Full Tilt Frog</b> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HFTUaPMLIQY&list=PL2bATHxkPr_oqivPaoTmxaOPFuZQSsQdR&index=9" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">listen here</a></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5QP1N5WulGudtmMOove3GU3uo1RSVloj-ZQtI4xyyAoafMNz0gB5Gpa7fq4n80rTu112f7BWpTWQCEGElitcmPaImSbcxF0APnAGHJiyfbC8TIj-UG8kX79SxfdTUv36JT0sGb_SQxP1r/s2048/DSCN3027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5QP1N5WulGudtmMOove3GU3uo1RSVloj-ZQtI4xyyAoafMNz0gB5Gpa7fq4n80rTu112f7BWpTWQCEGElitcmPaImSbcxF0APnAGHJiyfbC8TIj-UG8kX79SxfdTUv36JT0sGb_SQxP1r/s320/DSCN3027.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Mont Canigou French Catalogne</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufq5aWnT7Z4FOW9xM9uWmpdGAR2akSNB71SsU8MiwHArBsqbpJlQtIS74R6T-p1Co_a96DOYARuVJQMjc12vYFZiWqaaTgGfB8iEV_ZiH4LcSGu1B7IBeRaKSTeu0xTchTslIxNWo70zO/s2048/IMG_1225.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhufq5aWnT7Z4FOW9xM9uWmpdGAR2akSNB71SsU8MiwHArBsqbpJlQtIS74R6T-p1Co_a96DOYARuVJQMjc12vYFZiWqaaTgGfB8iEV_ZiH4LcSGu1B7IBeRaKSTeu0xTchTslIxNWo70zO/s320/IMG_1225.JPG" width="240" /></a></div><br /><p>Puigcerda, Spanish Pyrenees</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfj0iN_svx-d-17M-BQrfHJAEf1cOTfI0wRWPole2ZtDcqSJnr8_pYaOzzDGiYdbwsi1CqhXYnZyg-LEvSx9gPFp2wuYETjcwzRx9y1pbcQTiXiIKYykzbMQ3ynRJnCnuQd74r1o1kQQz/s2048/DSCN1723.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqfj0iN_svx-d-17M-BQrfHJAEf1cOTfI0wRWPole2ZtDcqSJnr8_pYaOzzDGiYdbwsi1CqhXYnZyg-LEvSx9gPFp2wuYETjcwzRx9y1pbcQTiXiIKYykzbMQ3ynRJnCnuQd74r1o1kQQz/s320/DSCN1723.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>Winter storm in Malta</p><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-76510240535220129802021-10-01T09:58:00.006+02:002021-10-07T10:13:03.170+02:00⌗FRIDAY FICTIONNEERS-Photo Prompt-sacred haven.<p><br /></p><p>Welcome to another blog hop from Friday Fictionneers .</p><p>If you would like to know more and join the fun <a href="https://www.rochellewisoff.com" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">visit here</a></p><p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsjpminDKuUCn_yeQPJHlPxAzqrwrDWl0k-4TwZJHdBin3v1wITQj3G0ddkZn7hexR0m3KykhO3UWu50tsq6o9SlvA42Tr_RwdPva1Nb_WA8JedngmMdzi1QQ9XSD2iLilR4IPYMlhVnCB/s793/friday-fictioneers-and-poppy.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="793" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsjpminDKuUCn_yeQPJHlPxAzqrwrDWl0k-4TwZJHdBin3v1wITQj3G0ddkZn7hexR0m3KykhO3UWu50tsq6o9SlvA42Tr_RwdPva1Nb_WA8JedngmMdzi1QQ9XSD2iLilR4IPYMlhVnCB/s320/friday-fictioneers-and-poppy.webp" width="242" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p>This week's photo</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXkeJ6WkVX-rl_wy_vCfWbLw_2Fdn_JEEAGaxOCDh4Dk65HXSCk5E0hQT0sgR8E8KbY0-4_EwzmL9kskrg1WCZvHw_j3OCwXSRKjrAwO8TjNCmjYvC3IqWSbMHSKvI2cmXhqCVCt0PD45/s736/img_6787.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="519" data-original-width="736" height="226" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAXkeJ6WkVX-rl_wy_vCfWbLw_2Fdn_JEEAGaxOCDh4Dk65HXSCk5E0hQT0sgR8E8KbY0-4_EwzmL9kskrg1WCZvHw_j3OCwXSRKjrAwO8TjNCmjYvC3IqWSbMHSKvI2cmXhqCVCt0PD45/s320/img_6787.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>Sacred haven</p><p><br /></p><p>Painfully, he tread up the last step of the church stoop. He fumbled at the ring knob and creaked the thick oak door open. It cringed on millennium rusted hinges. Steven banged the opening shut and slid the bolts tight. Incense furled upwards, candles played rainbows onto the pews: contrite figures, horses rearing, sparkling crosses. Safe at last.</p><p>A throaty howl wrenched the silence. Wood splinted. A ghoulish shadow framed the alcove, followed by an army of grunting figures. No sooner had they crossed the threshold of the sacred haven than they dissolve into screaming flames.</p><p>Steven let out a hissing sigh as snow cherubs descended upon him.</p><p><br /></p><p>Thank you for reading.</p><p><br /></p><p>Wishing you all a restful and inspiring weekend.</p><p><br /></p><p>Missa Criolla</p><p>listen <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6dlXnR6SPI0" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-72347317743064927852021-09-22T11:59:00.000+02:002021-09-22T11:59:19.590+02:00⌗Friday Fictionneers<p> Welcome to another photo prompt from the Friday Fictionneers blog hop.</p><p>If you would like to join in the fun , please visit <a href="https://rochellewisoff.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Friday Fictionneers</a></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlt1NrwU_1VXFklZz6kwSBHSuqSBlHovn6ueMuNfWGBYe8K4xcwwBS1_xWOoLWgsaGBxn1WNWFyuhD0yJT1kUuae5kTprvJtLcy8NeDvlQ6uQxNMxWdPhhtIUUCTnvd5_kMMNFuAX6p52/s600/big-bird-with-ff-rules.webp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOlt1NrwU_1VXFklZz6kwSBHSuqSBlHovn6ueMuNfWGBYe8K4xcwwBS1_xWOoLWgsaGBxn1WNWFyuhD0yJT1kUuae5kTprvJtLcy8NeDvlQ6uQxNMxWdPhhtIUUCTnvd5_kMMNFuAX6p52/s320/big-bird-with-ff-rules.webp" width="320" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>thank you to Liz Young for her photo prompt today.<div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsos6UxRmaHronOXmlF2fB7tM-sjk3ofHyTlfvti-rXzAhlGdpvyRd2vPV7MUxGGhng5k5Eu7qNh9slFH5r0eDi9b7Xhxd_31zgpW-zUAfXMfySnTyE6KnsS8Jw7ERSfwOHjHYNAyEiK5/s796/liz-young-lights.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="597" data-original-width="796" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTsos6UxRmaHronOXmlF2fB7tM-sjk3ofHyTlfvti-rXzAhlGdpvyRd2vPV7MUxGGhng5k5Eu7qNh9slFH5r0eDi9b7Xhxd_31zgpW-zUAfXMfySnTyE6KnsS8Jw7ERSfwOHjHYNAyEiK5/s320/liz-young-lights.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div><br /><p>Gordon ran, ran and jumped up each step, mirrored by a million windows of blinding bulbs. They were definitely after him. He couldn't hide among the myriad perpetual staircases leading up to no rooms or hallways. He couldn't warp into another time frame and he couldn't cease to breath: he was immortal.</p><p>His thoughts thrashed and boiled, his eyes darted, his body writhed. A trickle of cold sweat finally woke him up to the golden rays playfully dancing on the dresser.</p><p>"Honey, what a nightmare, I was in Blade Runner, but nowhere near as handsome as Harrison Ford. I think maybe that was the worst part."</p><p>susanbauryrouchard</p><p><br /></p><p>Thanks for reading. Don't forget to look up what the other scribblers have imagined on the linkiz page.</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eogpIG53Cis" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">trailer</a><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW2FlUUhSF0wD35Iy8jUAPH2X6dTI-IMnfszlZtLX96_XMLQpHiPQyxPoQhcpAxXWWKZIu0UtBKnCL-LvZ4Pwi-qUCFZGBr_dCsLLkPRzByTLsxPmhYEfJs5xrGI9SePALsuI5KbypNhXY/s402/movieposter_en.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="402" data-original-width="279" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW2FlUUhSF0wD35Iy8jUAPH2X6dTI-IMnfszlZtLX96_XMLQpHiPQyxPoQhcpAxXWWKZIu0UtBKnCL-LvZ4Pwi-qUCFZGBr_dCsLLkPRzByTLsxPmhYEfJs5xrGI9SePALsuI5KbypNhXY/s320/movieposter_en.jpg" width="222" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-85280246135183595382021-09-20T12:13:00.000+02:002021-09-20T12:13:04.676+02:00⌗WRITING WEEKEND-Ramshackle-A Yard so Beautiful<p> Welcome to WRITING WEEKEND PROMPT.</p><p>If you'd like to join or know more visit Sammi at <a href="https://sammiscribbles.wordpress.com/2021/09/18/weekend-writing-prompt-227-ramshackle/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">sammi's scribbles</a></p><p><br /></p><p>This week</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtGKSPkw83ROBMubolwlaZO64iXqQMt6uQFlazDR1NYgecFfcoeXTSu2NQ8K8OXQpktP5QI-bshaYvNY5KpmqJ6TRsbUxRz3UoRWURyCv8sd6VGBORMuqyZFFrf0ncL47WlBo115ti2OIW/s604/wk-227-ramshackle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="477" data-original-width="604" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtGKSPkw83ROBMubolwlaZO64iXqQMt6uQFlazDR1NYgecFfcoeXTSu2NQ8K8OXQpktP5QI-bshaYvNY5KpmqJ6TRsbUxRz3UoRWURyCv8sd6VGBORMuqyZFFrf0ncL47WlBo115ti2OIW/s320/wk-227-ramshackle.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">How could a plain yard be so beautiful ?</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">A ramshackle of objects tumbled</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">from each, every room</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">of this foreboding house.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">A four-post bed stripped of varnish,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">mould creeping up its legs</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">saw the births of George, Ann, </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">Terry, Benjamin, Gloria; the deaths</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">of a parson, a banker, a billionaire.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">An imposing Ming vase: a lovers' bridge,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">a dragon spitting fire from a rocky ledge;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">a wooden dolls' house, an exact replica,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">complete with furniture, right down</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">to a cracked enamel washbasin,</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">a rugged counter with a grey plaster fish.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">All strewn across memories below</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;">falling snow.</span></div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>Thanks for reading</span><div><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMp2lXNy9-Y7Drmm2sH7JGgtd0Qyfv-rlthyphenhyphenXOCFnSC7RvCaNfoTMx9wjm0jW5AXT6l3XQmlzAWUeomuH3yUi0dM1gcaQwHtgsulQhkz923b_kj9XkN0clOXTMpS2kXGaqQRtvI4lAGYU/s2048/JEAN_LOUIS_THE%25CC%2581ODORE_GE%25CC%2581RICAULT_-_La_Balsa_de_la_Medusa_%2528Museo_del_Louvre%252C_1818-19%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1398" data-original-width="2048" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZMp2lXNy9-Y7Drmm2sH7JGgtd0Qyfv-rlthyphenhyphenXOCFnSC7RvCaNfoTMx9wjm0jW5AXT6l3XQmlzAWUeomuH3yUi0dM1gcaQwHtgsulQhkz923b_kj9XkN0clOXTMpS2kXGaqQRtvI4lAGYU/s320/JEAN_LOUIS_THE%25CC%2581ODORE_GE%25CC%2581RICAULT_-_La_Balsa_de_la_Medusa_%2528Museo_del_Louvre%252C_1818-19%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: georgia; font-size: medium;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY2eXDdzMZIE2OP7XT2Z2TIuoCZALwhWcVV3HCjt1fWkpSDyFHFRoA8QvyTaDElrZuLoOBAsnm64573HvVmrZnVinUczhoYD18DmkX7ctHx2Q_9eFx600s1IJr2erp-9c2x0MBZ_Ui-vzk/s475/28422681.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="475" data-original-width="292" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiY2eXDdzMZIE2OP7XT2Z2TIuoCZALwhWcVV3HCjt1fWkpSDyFHFRoA8QvyTaDElrZuLoOBAsnm64573HvVmrZnVinUczhoYD18DmkX7ctHx2Q_9eFx600s1IJr2erp-9c2x0MBZ_Ui-vzk/s320/28422681.jpg" width="197" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPA0by-zPGOodLsYt3eNHlNxx8y6Z5P9Y2NkCDLIcmgXu8Eif_Bj3Xr1_WbfO7rWfCYn60g68JXYI-1ioF1UV5dHjpu-DHWnmG30RAl5gHyYraY8xBMZqwp7ViCcirFKJAblG6q8p3IirU/s2048/DSCN3862.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPA0by-zPGOodLsYt3eNHlNxx8y6Z5P9Y2NkCDLIcmgXu8Eif_Bj3Xr1_WbfO7rWfCYn60g68JXYI-1ioF1UV5dHjpu-DHWnmG30RAl5gHyYraY8xBMZqwp7ViCcirFKJAblG6q8p3IirU/s320/DSCN3862.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOPjUw971AvxHqbdJG3QTXBuPyOZZ9-8yU2DC3A5DQs23V3Y_p3e6UmftdM_EPhtDYX3R50x18YfaD8OmRhJVrD6GPsRxNFC1HhNPzpyAGFT3v-3m14jl1PVSSLrDUM3-eEV14LdrPDms/s2048/DSCN3884.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQOPjUw971AvxHqbdJG3QTXBuPyOZZ9-8yU2DC3A5DQs23V3Y_p3e6UmftdM_EPhtDYX3R50x18YfaD8OmRhJVrD6GPsRxNFC1HhNPzpyAGFT3v-3m14jl1PVSSLrDUM3-eEV14LdrPDms/s320/DSCN3884.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxnk6-33AhAEbe_u49E83blOwXNVaPmu9yfYjrGXimwQBqbR864LBxoujpkJmdHzicTi9-7M5Vb_4FNZO8Lk44IVGa7IIY6opFMbTONza6prYwlYjU5RgnJIKNrO78uiDglo__8mZZmgL/s2048/DSCN3903.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguxnk6-33AhAEbe_u49E83blOwXNVaPmu9yfYjrGXimwQBqbR864LBxoujpkJmdHzicTi9-7M5Vb_4FNZO8Lk44IVGa7IIY6opFMbTONza6prYwlYjU5RgnJIKNrO78uiDglo__8mZZmgL/s320/DSCN3903.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-68693454422479990972021-09-17T11:47:00.002+02:002021-09-17T12:33:04.342+02:00⌗Friday Fictioneers - Photo prompt Paddle- Paddling up the ORINOCO<p> HAPPY Friday. Welcome to the Friday Fictioneers' blog hop, hosted by Rochelle.</p><p>Thanks to Keith for introducing me to this fun excuse to write our heart's out and share with so many talented scribblers.</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6rz6BH6zMWAHPLlI9yASUY2tTR0s1a5K8WYXzXNdfX9zEMsQaDuaoU5ePVjyCSyjuykBN7Mznf-RtbotKKaDUP9rgzEbYNDSXbAvtvp5gYAEX9S6-TVZSOIPOo4bOj2O8ZE1MGYIBYsQ/s600/blue-ceiling-ff.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="553" data-original-width="600" height="295" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH6rz6BH6zMWAHPLlI9yASUY2tTR0s1a5K8WYXzXNdfX9zEMsQaDuaoU5ePVjyCSyjuykBN7Mznf-RtbotKKaDUP9rgzEbYNDSXbAvtvp5gYAEX9S6-TVZSOIPOo4bOj2O8ZE1MGYIBYsQ/s320/blue-ceiling-ff.webp" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p>This week's prompt</p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1vmIWzhus_cPmsSsCEXY6vznGmnQwtBwyjKlAMAgjQCa9jjMAPcJlF-R0EkMvX_1SBGU2Px1T7bAYoFAiaeWQle3bwwNPBS2A9zhJjpg2O-IWmMHo47qtzepE-3rmjANnhhwkIurlWzcq/s1023/from-krista-strutz.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1023" data-original-width="473" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1vmIWzhus_cPmsSsCEXY6vznGmnQwtBwyjKlAMAgjQCa9jjMAPcJlF-R0EkMvX_1SBGU2Px1T7bAYoFAiaeWQle3bwwNPBS2A9zhJjpg2O-IWmMHo47qtzepE-3rmjANnhhwkIurlWzcq/s320/from-krista-strutz.webp" width="148" /></a></div><br /><p>'Well, I certainly hope he's enjoying himself,' she thought. </p><p>Karen saw herself in a bark canoe paddling up the Orinoco with Alexander Von Humboldt in 1799. Windsurfing had been bad enough on her back ! She far preferred sailing on a twelve-footer along rugged coasts off Porquerolles or Belle-île. What was this crazy new fashion ! She rather pictured herself on a mirrored lake working oars with her Grandpa in Scandinavia or the Dordogne. Maybe she'd take a leap and go in for Kite-surfing.</p><p>"Is that the time! Gaspard, you're running in circles, let's take that walk," she said out loud to his ghost.</p><p>susanbauryrouchard, Toulouse, France.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-63644250545285133462021-09-02T12:18:00.001+02:002021-09-02T12:18:51.447+02:00⌗IWSG-September 2021-Success or earnings ?<p> Thank you to all my followers on Blogger and Wordpress for their support and praise for my poem <i>Trapped by the Undertow</i>, published 1st May 2021 on Bandit Fiction.com Read More section Poetry.</p><p>And for their encouragement on the publication of my poem <i>CARTHAGE</i> in ORBIS quarterly Literary Journal June 2021, Issue 196. Subscriptions on Orbis.com</p><p><br /></p><p>Welcome to</p><p>Another writing day for the Insecure Writers' Support Group</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmT9oaA09a_MSchQdfrKLCyjgDWGX4uRKpfc4prTs_GzFdN19PJ_KA9oOrtdsVndN1J7INOXfbo29K87livXVeDGGQQKpnwPaW66VeiR6JhlV4xBvicT1TFJMksDJWXB6BHCmempCyYaA/s1080/IWSG+Admin.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilmT9oaA09a_MSchQdfrKLCyjgDWGX4uRKpfc4prTs_GzFdN19PJ_KA9oOrtdsVndN1J7INOXfbo29K87livXVeDGGQQKpnwPaW66VeiR6JhlV4xBvicT1TFJMksDJWXB6BHCmempCyYaA/s320/IWSG+Admin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyeCLUJ4-7VwWL2U8FCdRZLaK7se-MHHNvvCfeL7cZMEYwhQSapSelVVhe2M1GZEnLkAI_F-37ZA5s2JMue6gHt5f-qhWIsHv8vEXKBXGtaO7v6dzGZC32xla9QfWA2VRQgxuGJ4CFkUH1/s236/100+best+websites+for+writers+2021+winner+badge.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="236" data-original-width="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyeCLUJ4-7VwWL2U8FCdRZLaK7se-MHHNvvCfeL7cZMEYwhQSapSelVVhe2M1GZEnLkAI_F-37ZA5s2JMue6gHt5f-qhWIsHv8vEXKBXGtaO7v6dzGZC32xla9QfWA2VRQgxuGJ4CFkUH1/s0/100+best+websites+for+writers+2021+winner+badge.png" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">Thank you to the co-hosts for this month.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;">They are</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a _blank="" href="http://www.ninjalibrarian.com/%E2%80%9Dtarget=" style="color: #990000; text-decoration-line: none;">Rebecca Douglass,</a> <a _blank="" href="http://journalingwoman.blogspot.com/%E2%80%9Dtarget=" style="color: #990000; text-decoration-line: none;">T. Powell Coltrin @Journaling Woman,</a> <a href="http://www.literaryrambles.com/" style="color: #990000; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Natalie Aguirre,</a> <a href="https://reprobatetypewriter.com/" style="color: #990000; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">Karen Lynn,</a></b><span style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large;"> and </span><b style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><a href="http://www.cleemckenziebooks.com/blog/" style="color: #990000; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">C. Lee McKenzie!</a></b><br style="background-color: white; color: #191919; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: large;" /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>September question : How do you define success as a writer ? Is it holding your book in your hand ? Having a short story published ? Making a certain amount of income from your writing ?</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b>as always, the response is optional ... in my insecure case, even somewhat embarrassing.....</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Not many publications and very scanty feedback on these few... no, my door is not clogged up by fan mail through the letter box... some mention in the magazines I've published in, lavish praise from present and past tutors and polite comments on my blog that is the sum of the visible 'success' attached to my writing.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">However, what is always encouraging is the flame of passion which courses through my veins when dreaming up plots, metaphors, dialogues or descriptions. Finding the exact word which encompasses all I am feeling; the picture in my mind's eye of the perfect setting and unfolding of a story or an atmosphere.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Success can only be measured for me if I manage through my poems or stories to share fully with readers this passion. Any comments which reveal a kindred emotion add to a growing list of confidential prizes which I cherish and bask in whenever the dark hand of 'giving up' looms.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>To all and sundry, a message of hope which will shed a welcome glow on the stormiest day: HANG IN THERE and keep writing and sharing your <i>"Joie de Vivre"</i> with the world.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>Thank you for stopping by and Happy IWSG day, may this month's posts swell your heart with companionship and compassion.</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>inspiration in walks </b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b>village bliss</b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2c-RbDBAY59OE9JQzJVQPpk_HCA5sZMp0qNCmkkE_O-wI_1rjuXWTWrfARODOe3qzt0XJsUxZrG3ZZzX2ZBKkHYf_IN5C438fkMoFDtdL3PFkUAD7JYznjoaJr40VgRWTqlUiKAAOIutY/s2048/DSCN2731.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2c-RbDBAY59OE9JQzJVQPpk_HCA5sZMp0qNCmkkE_O-wI_1rjuXWTWrfARODOe3qzt0XJsUxZrG3ZZzX2ZBKkHYf_IN5C438fkMoFDtdL3PFkUAD7JYznjoaJr40VgRWTqlUiKAAOIutY/s320/DSCN2731.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT2VK5PIvKOcHPosnL-Ke8ypCCzWN9Y8Z6GbF37yyz35QRMQa-NBAcEbYobMsqCnfMVpHCTvsNCaiOGmSM1ZABn8kunXrizvhcDNw1htgliXsToWzGyhIkfbnhyQytE2i5IednHjrbDSY9/s2048/DSCN2690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgT2VK5PIvKOcHPosnL-Ke8ypCCzWN9Y8Z6GbF37yyz35QRMQa-NBAcEbYobMsqCnfMVpHCTvsNCaiOGmSM1ZABn8kunXrizvhcDNw1htgliXsToWzGyhIkfbnhyQytE2i5IednHjrbDSY9/s320/DSCN2690.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-61454614831930234442021-08-18T13:55:00.336+02:002021-09-02T12:24:48.643+02:00⌗WEP-Freedom of Speech-The Fresco-August 18th 2021<p style="text-align: justify;"> </p><p style="text-align: justify;"><br /></p><div style="text-align: left;">Welcome to another posting of the Write Edit publish Prompt.</div><div style="text-align: left;">If you would like to know more about the WEP Challenge or join the fun, <a href="https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">please read here</a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3-hcKXT19AKSMhOK3B009HcfNsV30z85dGvHmq6-1V06MygI9igNLWZQqYt2k9rxs92Lk5JvgIK9sj2zDUfDMnH80NVTk12p5eL2xe45bdpS9K-E4aIgrlEexAAWclmjUmJ0RF23GUwPN/s1200/year+badge.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3-hcKXT19AKSMhOK3B009HcfNsV30z85dGvHmq6-1V06MygI9igNLWZQqYt2k9rxs92Lk5JvgIK9sj2zDUfDMnH80NVTk12p5eL2xe45bdpS9K-E4aIgrlEexAAWclmjUmJ0RF23GUwPN/s320/year+badge.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">this Month</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">The Painting prompt</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioufjfF0z7OeK03CwD7GeSYNdYW34UxGkN79k3_N29Rfk7oNYPb2CUxIVXlh-E-khSuGoLoEL5tv3J4xXsKeb2UOUsT-1Z0JeVcdZAeWBdm62zPLcmzZucHuvtkS1nm6RfHWdZjgSQLLEb/s320/image.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="320" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioufjfF0z7OeK03CwD7GeSYNdYW34UxGkN79k3_N29Rfk7oNYPb2CUxIVXlh-E-khSuGoLoEL5tv3J4xXsKeb2UOUsT-1Z0JeVcdZAeWBdm62zPLcmzZucHuvtkS1nm6RfHWdZjgSQLLEb/s0/image.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><p align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.07in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.07in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.07in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>The Fresco</b></span></span></p><p align="CENTER" style="line-height: 0.07in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.07in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.07in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.07in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.07in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.07in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">1956 LEIPSIG</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.07in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 0.07in; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">The hours ticked by, long, long, one crutch at a time; the needle seemingly stuck </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">on each scratch of the </span><span style="text-align: center;">mantelpiece clock's face. He applied each downward strike </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">of his red imbibed brush </span><span style="text-align: center;">as though it were a </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">sword. </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">Frowns of brown appeared on the </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">workers' brows.</span></span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> Straight jackets </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">and pressed pants, tight, </span></span><span style="text-align: center;">encased t</span><span style="text-align: center;">heir limbs. He shifted, a crick</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">in his lower back. Gustav's strain of concentration vibrated in each </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">strand </span><span style="text-align: center;">of his nervous system to wheeze out of his throat in a hiss </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">of a high-pitched, barely audible whistle, </span><span style="text-align: center;">like </span><span style="text-align: center;">some alien signal nagging at his mind.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">'</span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">At six sharp, the Master and the Herr </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="de-DE">Kommandant</span></span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> will stomp </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">into the Great hall to survey, eyebrows </span></span><span style="text-align: center;">knotted, the martial mural,' he thought,</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"> trepidation and dread </span><span style="text-align: center;">beating like dissonant gongs in his chest. </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">'</span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">All </span></span><span style="text-align: center;">I ever hopped for was a logged-walled home up on a lush hill </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">overlooking the thick, reassuring </span><span style="text-align: center;">forests </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">with white-capped peaks beyond;</span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> greens, bright yellows and </span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">orange-streaked </span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="de-DE">ochres</span></span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> in the shadow </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">of my </span></span><span style="text-align: center;">eyelids to enhance beauty on a crisp canvas,' he daydreamed. </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">His reverie spanned a century, a </span><span style="text-align: center;">whole </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">lifetime, </span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">imprisoned</span></span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">in these few endless minutes fixing the final </span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">touches on months </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">of intense </span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">labour: the </span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">sum </span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">of his </span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">apprenticeship</span></span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">that would either enslave him or cut </span></span><span style="text-align: center;">down all future prospects.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">The double oak door exploded with the din of dictatorial hard boots.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">“Let's see what you have to show me today, Klaus.”</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">“Um, Herr Kommandant, here is the result of our Workers' Union efforts,”</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"> the Master </span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">crooned</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">, turning </span></span><span style="text-align: center;">his </span><span style="text-align: center;">head sharply to Gustav </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">as a warning and hissed “step back boy.”</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">The Kommandant moved his eyes away towards the wall to his left, </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">feigning not to have heard this <i>à </i></span><i style="text-align: center;">parte</i><span style="text-align: center;">, and raised his monocle </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">like an aristocrat from the past century. </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">While bending to examine a detail </span><span style="text-align: center;">on the tunic of one of the Patriot Soldiers </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">depicted on the mural, he let </span><span style="text-align: center;">out a gasp of horror.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="break-before: page; line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">“</span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Was ist dieser Speck ab diesem Arm</i></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;">?” he boomed curtly.</span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">The Master squinted behind his thick lenses and gazed intently, </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">straining to make out the offensive blob, </span><span style="text-align: center;">not risking to take a step closer </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">so as to remain firmly behind his </span><span style="text-align: center;">superior and not cast a shadow on the </span><span style="text-align: center;">fresco</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">Gustav lowered his gaze to the toes of his galoshes, noticing as if for the first time, </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><div><br /></div><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">the film of white dust </span><span style="text-align: center;">on them. He heart lurched as it clonked in his chest </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">and he wondered that they didn't </span><span style="text-align: center;">seem to notice, as it </span><span style="text-align: center;">appeared to echo </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">and bounce from floor to ceiling. </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">He balanced from one foot to the other stealingly </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">r</span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">ubbing each shoe behind his ankle while a </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">mischievous</span></span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> smile twitched on his lips.</span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span> </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span> </span>“It's a bird, a dove ! White ! What means this insult to Demokratisher Deutschland ? </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Wer hat dieses </i></span></span><i style="text-align: center;">get</i><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>un</i></span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"> </span><span style="text-align: center;">?”</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">Klaus, the Official Master Painter, fidgeted, rubbing his nail skin </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">with his opposing thumbs and looked </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">fixedly at the floorboards, </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">an appalled face </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">frozen</span></span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> on his features. </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">The Herr Kommandant wasn't </span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">expecting </span></span><span style="text-align: center;">an answer, Klaus and Gustav knew.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"> They both waited, dreading </span><span style="text-align: center;">what would come next.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span> </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">“Master Klaus, you will get to the bottom of this and bring me the culprit </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">or it's your </span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Kopff</i></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"> that will <span> </span></span></span><span style="text-align: center;">roll</span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">!”</span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">With these definite words, the Herr Kommandant wheeled towards the open doors </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">and stormed out, Klaus </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">t</span><span style="text-align: center;">ripped rapidly behind him, but not without a backward glance </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">at Gustav, eyes </span><span style="text-align: center;">burrowing holes into his </span><span style="text-align: center;">soul. Gustav, innocence itself painted </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">all over his cheeks, </span><span style="text-align: center;">shrugged his lanky frame once </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">and shook his </span><span style="text-align: center;">head decisively. Klaus resumed his march down the corridor,</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"> momentarily convinced. </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">Gustav could still </span><span style="text-align: center;">hear the ghost of the Herr Kommandant's outrage, </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">mingled with the click of his boots </span><span style="text-align: center;">down each marble </span><span style="text-align: center;">step of the majestic staircase, </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">long into the night. </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">Before disappearing down a side exit, he had quickly </span><span style="text-align: center;">taken up the brush, </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">stuck it into a tiny mud of a </span><span style="text-align: center;">puddle on the half-caked palette, raised his wrist, </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">digging </span><span style="text-align: center;">his forefinger and </span><span style="text-align: center;">thumb </span><span style="text-align: center;"> into the tip of the </span><span style="text-align: center;">handle, took a step forward </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">and halted his intent. A </span><span style="text-align: center;">thousand </span><span style="text-align: center;">bursts of pure thought had ricoche'ed </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">through his brain. For a few seconds, he had stood there, </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">mesmerised </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">by his own daring and had even </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">feared his </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">exhilarating</span></span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> sense of digression. </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">However, his </span></span><span style="text-align: center;">disgust and </span><span style="text-align: center;">craving for freedom that had </span><span style="text-align: center;">somehow been buried </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">under eddies of space and </span><span style="text-align: center;">time had </span><span style="text-align: center;">erupted like a volcano. The rush of adrenaline, </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">his decision now fully formulated was like lava destroying </span><span style="text-align: center;">any reticence </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">that still lingered in the rumble </span><span style="text-align: center;">of </span><span style="text-align: center;">his life. He had taken a step back, resolute; </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">eyed the dove, </span><span style="text-align: center;">its uplifting wings, his poetic handiwork.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="break-before: page; line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">The grin on his mouth turned into a harmonious laugh, like a birdsong soaring </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">out of the door to its cage. </span><span style="text-align: center;">Then followed a sonorous “</span><i style="text-align: center;">Sheiℬe</i><span style="text-align: center;">” as it had dawned </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">on him </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">that he had no choice. The brush had </span><span style="text-align: center;">clattered onto </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">the immaculate floorboard, </span><span style="text-align: center;">his apron had been discarded halfway across the hall. </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">Gustav </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">had calmly stepped </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">through the </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-GB">concealed</span></span></span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"> door </span></span><span style="text-align: center;">to the workshop </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">and flew back home </span><span style="text-align: center;">as if his feet hovered </span><span style="text-align: center;">on an invisible breeze.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><br /></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">In the morning he would step onto the train with his pass to visit his grandmother, </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;">born and still living in </span><span style="color: black; text-align: center;">a </span><span style="text-align: center;">small village near Göttinger. With the recent uprising </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">in Budapest, </span><span style="text-align: center;">controls on the lines were </span><span style="text-align: center;">notoriously </span><span style="text-align: center;">rare. </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">There he would shout out the truth </span><span style="text-align: center;">about the iron curtain </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">which had cleaved his </span><span style="text-align: center;">homeland into two </span><span style="text-align: center;">by painting a real picture </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;">with his colours and his words.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>©</b></span></span><b style="text-align: center;">susanbauryrouchard</b></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><br /></i></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>German</i></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i><br /></i></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>- what is this blemish on this arm <span style="text-align: center;">?</span></i></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>- who did this ?</i></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>- head </i></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><i>- shit</i></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br /></b></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 1.5px; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>WORD COUNT 930 FCA</b></span></span></p></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>thank you for reading and please feel free to comment.<br /><p><br /></p></div><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-59742164617410321512021-06-17T16:03:00.001+02:002021-07-06T14:06:51.172+02:00⌗WEP-June2021- Submerged by a Wave of Relief<p> Welcome to another post from the Write, Edit Publish blogging community.</p><p> If you would like to know more about the WEP Challenge and how to participate</p><p> <a href="https://writeeditpublishnow.blogspot.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">visit here</a></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGgZLlIVMq1a7qdNPwxW6VF25UgkXoTX81ftzNQ1oB4Kcdf-2-CldLzzZ-YbZOaCS_-fb-YWmtUcHAdJZXlqX95Vxykjq9RxZA-ymOMr6ivzE4Wmz8ZoHA7QlI_Glq6ZxZTDYrEu9OrBwV/s1001/tumblr_00bffb7fe5f89f66d9be0e58469b5f07_1133ed0c_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1001" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGgZLlIVMq1a7qdNPwxW6VF25UgkXoTX81ftzNQ1oB4Kcdf-2-CldLzzZ-YbZOaCS_-fb-YWmtUcHAdJZXlqX95Vxykjq9RxZA-ymOMr6ivzE4Wmz8ZoHA7QlI_Glq6ZxZTDYrEu9OrBwV/s320/tumblr_00bffb7fe5f89f66d9be0e58469b5f07_1133ed0c_1280.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLsaRTEmVf_UL4TKOUZ8dI5M294ywxsuVfWflPvt5aecvd8AeEsLnPivYwXJBt-kl9L-RS0KtN8Rr9ktdJmeb4j9VvEDFW7uXy-qwFGTxQfLtwzMPSQW5lHrvc-iKr0SXHl3YrFdazKHL5/s1200/tumblr_e4214ff54556e7e1df97f8577af04e6d_ac2c3062_1280.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLsaRTEmVf_UL4TKOUZ8dI5M294ywxsuVfWflPvt5aecvd8AeEsLnPivYwXJBt-kl9L-RS0KtN8Rr9ktdJmeb4j9VvEDFW7uXy-qwFGTxQfLtwzMPSQW5lHrvc-iKr0SXHl3YrFdazKHL5/s320/tumblr_e4214ff54556e7e1df97f8577af04e6d_ac2c3062_1280.jpg" /></a></div><br /><p>Thank you to Denise Covey and all the WEP team for this opportunity.</p><p><br /></p><p><b>Submerged by a Wave of Relief</b></p><p><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;">"Ouch". The screwdriver had glanced on the skin between nail and thumb. A vermillion pearl pooled. He stuck his thumb in his mouth and sucked. "Damn". He was putting the final touches on the new wireless radio set, he had constructed from scratch. On his first, he had needed, pre-war : copper wires, bolts and screws; dials, a bulb, a needle and finally the framing. Today, he used slightly more modern materials but the method was the same.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span> The first of six screws to close the lid fast was always the trickiest. Pressing down with his left palm and forearm, at the same time, he inserted the screw with his right thumb and forefinger; he really needed a third hand. The screwdriver lay on the wooden workbench biding its time, before it was set into action.</span><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span> Grandpa Albert, still tending to the nick on his skin, took out the screw, lifted the lid and swore again. The afternoon light streamed in through the dirty pane from the back common; bees were dancing around the new-born yellow petals of the gorse bushes. The lid joined the screwdriver on the workbench, both abandoned for the time being. The planked door of the garage behind him, creaked invitingly. He brushed down his hands on his apron, hung it on its peg and followed the beckoning cool sea breeze out of his shed. Dust, mixed with sand, coated his old coupé car, bought secondhand and fixed up between odd jobs. The green paintwork captured the reverberating sun and glared reproachfully into his eyes.</span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span> He turned the corner and gathered up his tobacco pouch and pipe from the stool by the wooden wall, then sat down. His back rested on the the overgrown and invading ivy. The match fizzed as he sucked on the stem to fire up, his thumb, still smarting, and the heel of his hand firmly holding the polished cup of the pipe. Albert inhaled, brief puffs at first, so the leaves caught; then he released his grip and the reassuring aroma rose straight into the late afternoon air. No draft in his niche. He exhaled with a sigh of pleasure, well earned. A squabble of blue tits pricked at his ears and he turned his head towards the laurel bushes separating the square of back garden from the dirt track leading to the common. The birds suddenly flew off, startled, each taking a different trajectory, up towards the streaks of clouds above Albert's head. 'It will probably rain tonight', he thought. A bell tingled in the road, down beyond the front part of the house, 'the landlady has a visitor'.</span><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span><span> </span>Grandpa Albert's thoughts drifted back to memories of his childhood: his father in his workshop in Hackney. He could see him, as clearly as yesterday, fiddling with bicycle frames, hoses, tires, wheel spokes; Albert chuckled: he imagined him pinching one of his fingers while adjusting a bolt and screw. He would beckon to his son and say: "Don't just stand there, hand me that cloth. mind you run it under the tap first, you silly lad."</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span><span> A frown appeared on Albert's brow and he looked up at the sky again: fluffy clouds were now drifting further inland, chased by the tide. "May rain, early morning", he muttered. To the North, they were building up, dark grey, over the downs. Showers, if they were to come, would catch house wives unawares, as they scrambled to yank the clothes from the lines, grab at the pegs and drop them in the basket, before pattering quickly inside before the first drops. Albert was enjoying his pipe.</span><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span><span><span> His daydream was shattered </span></span></span></span></span>by the clatter of tiny shapes on the steps from the house, then the rapid thumping on wood, as his youngest grand-daughter, still with boy-length hair around her ears, climbed up the slope to the garden and grabbed the swing; she then settled her bottom on the nail-ridden seat, all in an arc of a swoop. 'Blimey', thought Albert, 'what's she got under her bonnet !' the little girl was oblivious to his presence, intent on her play-goal. She soaked in the sun, the salty mixture of cool and stimulating air, the tobacco smoke, all up like a sponge, all senses alert.</p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span> Pushing off from the ground, her frail, long arms strongly gripping the ropes, she sailed away into one of her adventures, of which she was the sole keeper, humming some tune or other that Albert, far removed from her land, didn't recognise. He shrugged, slightly annoyed at having his peace and quiet interrupted, and watched on as she swung up and down, up and down, like a pendulum gaining momentum. Grandpa Albert, as her pace picked up, what with the smoke and the lingering taste of blood from his thumb, started to feel giddy. However, nothing could seemingly destroy the child's rhythm and energy.</span><br /></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span> "Not too high, dear, you'll fall off", said Albert, half mumbling between puffs. Higher and higher, the child rose, as if she hadn't heard, or maybe she hadn't.</span><br /></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span> "Be careful", he bellowed.</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span>She turned her head sharply towards the shed behind her; the ropes twisted in her left hand and she lost her balance, flying from the swing. She landed in the rockery, smack onto stone, earth; crushing flowers, all in an instant. Albert had stood up, stepped forward, too late: the grandchild's knees were scrapped clean and starting to ooze. She let out a yelp, followed by a flow of tears and cries. Grandpa Albert drew forward to her side and picked her up by both arms: "stupid, stupid girl".</span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span><span> Just as sister, mother and grandmother burst up the slope, having emerged from the house, as if by magic, the little girl's lungs pushed out a loud wail, enough to wake the hedgehogs. The sister grabbed the freed swing, the mother knelt to brush down her daughter, tut-tutting and soothing at the same time. She then took hold of her hand and led her, still crying and protesting back to the house to clean and bandage the knobby knees. Grandpa Albert's wife didn't utter a word, arms crossed; bent down to evaluate the damage, shook her head then glanced sharply at him, a downward smile on pursed lips, sighing. She then turned away and followed the drama back down the steps, confident that the older child on the swing, now, could be left to her own devices and Albert's care.</span><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span><span><span> </span>Albert looked at his other little charge, just sitting there, and sat back down onto his stool. He picked up his pipe and lit it once more. As he drew in his breath, a wave of relief surged, then subsided in his breast. No harm come, this time; though, he could expect a dressing down that evening in bed.</span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span><span><b>©susanbauryrouchard FCA 1140 words.</b></span></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span><span> </span><br /></span></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;"><span><span><span>Thank you for reading. All comments welcome. </span><br /></span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-2160821020980454222021-05-03T08:31:00.028+02:002021-05-31T14:59:28.474+02:00#BanditFictionmagazine-Published-Trapped by the Undertow.<p> Dear readers,</p><p>On first of May , my poem <b>Trapped by the Undertow</b> was published on <b>Bandit Fiction, online magazine, </b>Read More, Poetry.</p><p>Check it out.</p><p>Some beautiful and compelling Poetry and Short Fiction to read every day , on the site.</p><p>Enjoy</p><p><br /></p><p><a href="https://banditfiction.com/2021/05/01/trapped-by-the-undertow-by-susan-rouchard/">https://banditfiction.com/2021/05/01/trapped-by-the-undertow-by-susan-rouchard/</a></p><p><br /></p><p><a href="http://lifeinpoetry.home.blog/2021/05/03/bandit-fiction-published-trapped-by-the-undertow-by-author-life-in-poetry/">http://lifeinpoetry.home.blog/2021/05/03/bandit-fiction-published-trapped-by-the-undertow-by-author-life-in-poetry/</a></p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg89rMI-ehHffLDerK-TyhQ_6SsfKRH9J3maRjr0vKzosjO606RlOTXNFysClphu3Orm-Sc1BlpxL-BwfjKKUOrVQlfMc-icNO216rDguQvG1VRoRsikZ9M-fT1PcPHC_MycuPjHUxGjPWD/s640/IMG_0372.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg89rMI-ehHffLDerK-TyhQ_6SsfKRH9J3maRjr0vKzosjO606RlOTXNFysClphu3Orm-Sc1BlpxL-BwfjKKUOrVQlfMc-icNO216rDguQvG1VRoRsikZ9M-fT1PcPHC_MycuPjHUxGjPWD/s320/IMG_0372.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FmisYwi-eVo/YI_rIA0246I/AAAAAAAACM4/YYj9YjB_GW8ARPRXr4vLj7Xres9GNB7SACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/DSCN3405.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><br /></a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-40786317440816841052019-08-11T13:03:00.001+02:002019-08-11T20:15:28.928+02:00#FMF, Friday 9th August 2019, AGAINHello there, welcome to another Five Minute Friday post.<br />
If you would like to know more about FMF and join this group, writing with Kate Motaung, <a href="https://fiveminutefriday.com/start-here/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">go here</a><br />
Write every Friday, Five Minutes Flat on a word prompt.<br />
You don't have to be a practicing christian to join this group. I'm not, my beliefs lie elsewhere (see my post REWARD, February 2019). All faiths welcome, as far as I'm concerned, as long as others' convictions are respected and nothing openly offensive is posted.<br />
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<img alt="again" src="https://i1.wp.com/fiveminutefriday.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/08/FMF-Square-Images-Round-6-4.png?resize=400%2C400&ssl=1" /><br />
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This Week, AGAIN. Thank you Nick Hardy for the guest post.<br />
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Dubrovnik again.</div>
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<br />
The Sun crests the horizon<br />
once again. The Moon creeps<br />
night after night from full<br />
to crescent, to new again,<br />
and again, month after month.<br />
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She murders me with her gaze<br />
year in, year out. She shot me<br />
again on Thursday. I rise<br />
from my corpse once more.<br />
Freewill and I shall never surrender.<br />
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Once again, an old friend<br />
at the other end of the phone.<br />
Like yesterday, like thirty<br />
years, so long ago, so far away.<br />
Again we settle into safe companionship.<br />
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The cycle rotates, bumps<br />
on cogs, bolts. The wheel<br />
again takes the lead, edges<br />
me back full circle to a haven,<br />
my peaceful retreat, my pen and paper.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><b>©susanbauryrouchard</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><b>©susanbauryrouchard</b></span></div>
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<br />
<i>Crystalised</i>, XX, 2009, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pib8eYDSFEI" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a><br />
<i>Pursuit of Happiness</i>, Kid Cudi, 2009, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xzU9Qqdqww" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a><br />
<i>Heavy Cross</i>, Gossip, 2009, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5mQVljB7JGw" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a><br />
<i>The Sad Song</i>, Freda Viola, 2009, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QRqjZtr6JaE" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a><br />
<i>Sheilia</i>, Atlas Sound, 2009, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Iab1ge9fgU" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a><br />
<i>Dandelion</i>, Charlotte Gainsbourg, 2009, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tT4E8KRG2B4" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a> and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w1-brq19vx0" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a> .<br />
<i>Hang you from the Heavens</i>, The Dead Weather, 2009, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LM4ms5sk5Sk" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a><br />
<i>Immortels</i>, Dominique A, 2009, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T3qgU-rkKjA" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a><br />
Howling around my Home, Daniel Norgren, 2013, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pktPD-f9DqA" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a><br />
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Thank you for stopping by. Please feel free to comment, discuss, like or dislike, rate. And I will be sure to reply.<br />
Have a stunning Sunday.<br />
See you next week.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-43191115020355707322019-08-10T15:48:00.004+02:002022-12-09T15:42:44.670+01:00#IWSG, Wednesday 7th August 2019. Dog Days of SummerDear Fellow writers and bloggers.<br />
Welcome to another month of the Insecure Writers Support Group.<br />
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Thanks to Pat Hatt for this month`s post. I`m a cat person myself, and agree that everyday day is cat`s day. They do what they want. As the Ancient Egyptians knew, they are Divinity.<br />
On my recent trip to Croatia, as in Istanbul last summer, I observed the growing population of cats. They are everywhere. They are free as the wind; it sometimes costs them their lives, especially when newly born. No mother, no milk, no shelter. If they survive, a caress of their body and tail, a plaintive meow is enough to melt the most leaden heart. And food will be provided. Shelter, conversation and fondling follow. However, a cat will not give up his freedom so easily. Windows and doors are to be kept open, imperitively, at all times. As the French say, 'Propose and the cat will Dispose'.<br />
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if you would like to read Pat's post and be reminded of all the exciting things going on at the IWSG,<br />
<a href="http://www.insecurewriterssupportgroup.com/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">go here</a><br />
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and you can sign-up .<br />
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Thank you to the co-hosts of this month's posting, <b>Renee Scattergood, Sadira Stone, Jacqui Murray, Tamara Narayan, LG Keltner and last but not least , the Ninja himself Alex J. Cavanaugh.</b><br />
A round of applause for all their hard work. Be sure to visit their sites, and like a cat, brush against them with your furry tails and look at them with your theatrical plaintive eyes like Cat in Boots (Shrek).<br />
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The (optional) question this month is:<br />
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<b>Has your writing ever taken you by surprise ? For example, a positive and belated response to a submission you'd forgotten about or an ending you never saw coming ?</b><br />
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As a budding professional writer, my publications are few and far apart. So I have never forgotten about a submission. The positive responses have always come fairly quickly, although always as a welcome surprise. That's how insecure a writer I have felt uptill now..<br />
Thank's to this group and the support of fellow bloggers who regularly follow my writing, confidence has grown exponentially in 2019. After forty-five years of writing my heart and brain out, but who is counting ... better late than never ... Another heart-warming surprise. Beyond my immediate family, their is a world out there, willing to listen and enjoy. As my mother would say, 'Wonders will never cease'. To discover who these amazing people are, see my Sunshine Blogger Award post, 16th May 2019, on this blog, <a href="https://writingsusanb-rouch.blogspot.com/2019/05/sunshinebloggeraward-nominations-may.html" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a> .<br />
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What truly takes me by surprise is the extent of insight I have occasionnally been gratified with over the years. Sometimes, I will read a snippet or whole pages of writing and think: ' Did I really write this ? Why did it take me solong to rediscover it ?' Life and inspiration work in mysterious ways.<br />
As Dr Seuss, would say, 'lessons have to be learnt over and over again' .... and most we learn in Kindergarten.<br />
My guardian angel, or muse or lucky star hovers, though imperceptively, constantly in the recesses of my pen and from time to time strikes. The lightening bolt cracks open the treasure chest or the current hits the tungsten filement of the light bulb. And , as lightening, you never know when or where it will crash down next. It rarely falls on the same spot, but it happens. People hit multiple times by lightening and survivng ....<br />
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The endings don't tend to creep up unawares though. They have a terrible habit of rushing to the fore at the most inappropriate moments, and like and impatient child, raise their hand, jumping up and down in their seats, to be picked on before I've had time to finish my meandering speech.<br />
I dream of writing like John Irving, from end to beginning; that would put a lid, from the onset, on that over-zealous young spirit bouncing about in my mind.<br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><b>©susanbauryrouchard</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Dis-moi ce que tu penses, L'Amour et la Violence</i>, Sebastien Tellier, 2008 <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CV65tWCZALI" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">go here</a></span></div>
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<i>Entre les lignes: clouée au sol</i>, Keny Arcana, 2006, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N6pG6-cGKqI" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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<i>Who the fuck are Artic Monkeys</i>, Artic Monkeys, 2006, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFeuKVkau6U" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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<i>Mount Wrocklai (Idle days)</i>, Beirut, 2006, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s1QYXlRzNS0" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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<i>Trick or Treatz</i>, Metronomy, 2007, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bTepsTH9_eo" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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<i>Hier à Sousse</i>, Alain Bashung, 2008, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XyQb3u5TcKY" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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Thank you for visiting. Please feel free to comment, like, dislike, discuss. And I will be sure to reply.<br />
Paris, sunny with a strong breeze. Bouncy bunny clouds floating from West to East. Yesterday's rain has washed away the dust and painted in the bright colours of Nature in again.<br />
Have an inspiring August to contribute to the Anthology, Red Wheelbarrow and countless other 'goodies'.<br />
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<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgG7gsmtXXu-m4mYc3Avak4bMAY6CUR8F0-MiNrXKiCgmvyAH2-h8qsvjXC7f69T_yVSkjqWperorlzkJf3vAIO5xRZ84qCQr0S4HWnvFLoW6LdaUTRSnw8YLbmovgiRZgjn2y0aIbhPMGZ5b2lV3SfnxbAs1lfLP7sOziLgo33MA6QLNVYi-1uH_lGw/s1080/IWSG%20Admin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="1080" height="107" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgG7gsmtXXu-m4mYc3Avak4bMAY6CUR8F0-MiNrXKiCgmvyAH2-h8qsvjXC7f69T_yVSkjqWperorlzkJf3vAIO5xRZ84qCQr0S4HWnvFLoW6LdaUTRSnw8YLbmovgiRZgjn2y0aIbhPMGZ5b2lV3SfnxbAs1lfLP7sOziLgo33MA6QLNVYi-1uH_lGw/s320/IWSG%20Admin.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-18908707063277506632019-08-01T16:37:00.001+02:002019-08-01T16:37:35.309+02:00⌗FMF, Friday 26th July 2019, MIDDLEWelcome to Five Minute Friday.<br />
If you would like to join up with Kate, <a href="https://fiveminutefriday.com/start-here/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">start-here</a><br />
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Today MIDDLE.<br />
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Middle English.<br />
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Chaucer's Canterbury Tales always fascinate me, even though the Middle English was hardeous at times. It transported me back in time to a place when people's preoccupations were either basic or spiritual.<br />
The pilgrims on this, uncannily modern, road trip are endearing, funny and sometimes downright annoying. The perfect Human Beings.<br />
I discovered these fireside stories about the same time that I visited Venice at 12 with my class. I spent that year documenting an enormous file on the Lagoon's origins, history, politics, economy and of course Renaissance Art.<br />
I was under the spell of the earlier artists. Fra Angelico's frescoes, discovered first in Venice, then in Florence the following year with the same class. Then came UCELLO and his colourful battle fields packed with side-stories of minor characters in corners and behind the main scene. Botticelli was an allegory master who left the beaten path of religious representations to offer Nature a rightful place alongside human activities.<br />
The architecture fulfilled my tastebuds for the Beautiful : palaces, gothic churches, campaniles. The explosion of gold and intricate mosaics encased within the Basilico San Marco.<br />
No middle ground in Venice. Each canal, waterway, street, alley offer unsuspected treasures, amongst which I was all to glad to get lost and forget the average existence awaiting me back home.<br />
<b>©susanbauryrouchard</b><br />
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<b>Palazzo Venice, July 2019</b></div>
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<b>Paradiso by Tintoretto</b></div>
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<b>Palazzo Ducale</b></div>
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<b>School of Ucello, Naval Battle</b></div>
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<b>The Grand Canal</b></div>
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<b>Santa Maria del Salute</b></div>
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<b>Basilica San Marco</b></div>
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<b>the Four Bronze Horses</b></div>
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<b>July 2019</b></div>
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<b>Jacco Gardner, Hypnophobia, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s3nYXCF4JhY&frags=pl%2Cwn" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">listen here</a></b></div>
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Thank you for visiting. Please feel free to comment, like, dislike, discuss. And I will be sure to reply.</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-1300795892533840122019-08-01T15:28:00.002+02:002019-08-01T15:28:28.220+02:00⌗FMF, Friday 19th July 2019, DISTANCEWelcome back to another week of Five Minute Friday. Write five minutes flat on a word prompt.<br />
If you would like to learn more or sign up with Kate <a href="http://fiveminutefriday.com/community/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">click here</a><br />
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Today DISTANT.<br />
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<b>Distant in Space.</b> Reach up and touch the Moon.<br />
We climbed the mountain. Auburn butterfly hovering<br />
over the violet <i>clochette</i>-shaped wild flowers.<br />
Sea stretching away, azure transparent, clear green.<br />
lunar landscapes islands, slopes crash into the water.<br />
Kekrrastic rocks.<br />
A <i>Ryder</i> sculpted onto the back of an <i>Orc</i>.<br />
A log cabin, a deep well. Founders of the Botanical Garden<br />
tread this path stealthily, cushioned by needle-blanketed<br />
chocolate earth. A photograph immortalises them. Smiling<br />
through Time.<br />
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<b>Distant in Time.</b> Lost to uncertain memories. The written word,<br />
the captured image keep <i>Time in a Bottle</i>, to share and enjoy<br />
full circle. Best friends at 8, lost to the passing years<br />
and growing up. Re-connect at 54. Electrical waves bridge<br />
an unfathomable abyss.<br />
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<b>Distance of Emotions.</b> When she expressed her aching feelings<br />
and they were dismissed, made light of, made fun of,<br />
a laughing matter. The comic story the family told over and over.<br />
Emotions ignored, facts reported twisted into fiction imagined.<br />
Fire ! Fire ! Wolf ! Wolf ! Burnt to ashes, eaten alive.<br />
From frying pan to fire.<br />
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<b>Distance of Opinions.</b> Harmony of ying and yang. Creamy dough<br />
of feminine flour and masculine butter. Clash of <i>pater rostra</i><br />
and questioning <i>fila pequena.</i> Gorge of misunderstanding : a woman's role,<br />
a man's role versus a human being striving to survive to lead an equal,<br />
balanced, fulfilling life.<br />
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<b>Distance of Culture.</b> The Hundred Years' War gathers like a storm cloud<br />
over the Channel of my birth. Lightening strikes once, twice, again and again,<br />
always hitting the same frail tree. You land me a blow, I get up and stare you<br />
down defiantly.<br />
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<b>Distance of Manners.</b> <i>Je fais fie de vos conventions.</i> They are chains<br />
and I am not a slave, nor a caged bird. My wings are delicate, engineered<br />
to fly up, up and away like that beautiful balloon of my dreams.<br />
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<b>Distance of Character.</b> My genes have spoken, my likes, my dislikes are my own.<br />
The battles I fight serve my survival and the bliss of loved ones.<br />
If you do not wish to dance in my circle and take my hand, be gone with you.<br />
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The Distances have crept up unawares. The bridges that we thought were made<br />
of stone have fissured and crumbled. The arches have toppled and stunned us dizzy.<br />
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I have lost a friend. You have severed a tie, imagining your unease is at the origin<br />
of all your problems. I am but the tip of the iceberg of your own making that<br />
you are intent on ramming your head against.<br />
Turn your wheel away, and stir clear. The wind will once again fill your sail and carry<br />
you towards clement lands.<br />
I am content to share my hard-fought ice with my friends the penguins, polar bears<br />
dolphins and whales. Basking in the clear air and rainbow skies.<br />
<b>©susanbauryrouchard.</b><br />
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La Garrigue, Lac de St Cassien, Côte d' Azur, July 2019</div>
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Street art Nice, Côte d' Azur, July 2019</div>
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Exhibition : Empress Sissi's Wardrobe</div>
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Opatja, Croatia, July 2019</div>
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National Park Velebit Mountains</div>
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View over Pag islands, Croatia.</div>
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Rock formation. Velebit mountains.</div>
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Morning moon over Pag Island</div>
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Gajac, Croatia</div>
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Johnny Cash, <i>Live at Folsom Prison</i> <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bDktBZzQIiU&frags=pl%2Cwn" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">go here</a></div>
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Supertramp, <i>It's Raining Again</i>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YZUE4_PtOk0&frags=pl%2Cwn" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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Jim Croce, <i>Time in a Bottle</i>, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3_ZS56qzJLs&frags=pl%2Cwn" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">here</a></div>
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Simon and Garfunkel, Wake Up Little Suzie, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlkEQXUdb0E&frags=pl%2Cwn" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">go here</a></div>
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Thank you for visiting. Please feel free to comment, discuss, like or dislike. And I will be sure to reply.</div>
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5657364586672862475.post-4417163694322741382019-07-15T00:03:00.003+02:002019-08-01T13:45:34.155+02:00#FMFriday, 12th July 2019, WILLINGWelcome to Five Minute Friday.<br />
I’m on the Road this week. Stopping over in Nice to search for an apartment for my son who is studying here next year. Then off for ten days in CROATIA, down the Dalmatian Coast. Returning by Venice, then Marseille.<br />
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If you would like to join Five Minute Friday, write five minutes flat on a word prompt and sign up with Kate, <a href="https://fiveminutefriday.com/2019/07/11/fmf-writing-prompt-link-up-willing/" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">Here</a><br />
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Today Willing.<br />
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Am I willing to change my ways ? I am still the same person I was at 5, 15, 25, 40. My husband calls me the ‘ quincado, the ‘ fifty-teen ‘. However, I am willing to change my actions, if unwilling and unable to change myself. You are what you achieve. ‘ I am what I am’ as Jerry Lee would say.<br />
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1989, return from a year in Africa. Consumerism Society was suddenly unbearable. Although in 1987, I had already sensed this: I had wanted to join Volunteers Abroad to teach English and French in schools around the world. I was politely asked to seek employment elsewhere, as my diploma was not that of a teacher of English, but a BA in Business Administration. However I was bilingual English/French, spoke German and Russian and had given English lessons to countless kids around the block. I had also travelled extensively and knew how to adapt to different cultures. My will and abilities counted for nothing because I did not fit into a box. Will and might do not change the world. Actions do. Not speeches or diplomas.<br />
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To change the world start by changing your ways. So that is where I started. I earned my living in<br />
jobs corresponding to my diploma.<br />
Then when I had earned enough to choose what I wanted to do and where I wanted to live, I passed my exams to teach English as a foreign language and taught in Spain, English and French to children, teens and adults, in schools and firms.<br />
At the same time, my crusade against consumerism began, changing things in my lifestyle, day by day, little by little.<br />
First, eating seasonal fruit and vegetables, which I started doing in France. Buying my produce from greegrocers, small supermarkets, local butcher and fishmonger, cheese mongers. Buying local or at least French, then Catalan or Spanish products.<br />
From 1994, I started to find organic and environmental friendly products and extended their purchase up till now when my whole shopping cart is solely composed of them.<br />
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Little by little, step by step, initiating my children along the way, as they came, grew and left the nest. Planting, harvesting. Avoiding use of the car then reverting to electric and solar, wind based energies for the house. My children walked, cycled to school and gave up most superfluous consumerism habits. Now living on their own, they follow suit by a will of their own and perseverance, initiating others along the way.<br />
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Thank you for reading. Please feel free to comment and I will be sure to reply.<br />
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<div class="blogger-post-footer">All contents of this blog are recognized as the work of Susan Baury Rouchard. COPYRIGHT ©susanbauryrouchard</div>Susan B.Rouchardhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08801283790969288263noreply@blogger.com