Scenery

Was Albert Camus a better goalkeeper than George Orwell? Have your say here.
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juliaromonov15azva
Posts: 31
Joined: Sun Mar 29, 2015 1:58 am

Fri Jun 10, 2016 8:11 pm

I emerge from a dense wood and remark with wonder at a solitary precipice some twelve feet in front of me. The terrain is steep and rocky but at the edge lay lavender bushes and a patch of grass. As I stand in the grass, I take my first look at the rays of a new day in the cloudless sky, which casts the full moon into high relief. Bellow me I see moonbeams strike the surface of an infinitely dark mass, that which is as smooth as glass and incalculably deep. In the full majesty of a new dawn, the contrast of the lake with the sky seems to deepen, the sky getting brighter while the lake retains its darkness. I judge that a common man with a great deal of strength could jump over the precipice and the woodland beach directly below and into the lake itself. I slowly stand tall onto my toes and I gently clear the air so that I remain standing yet six feet higher in the sky. It is then that the light envelopes me. The breaking of dawn had bleed dark blue into the sky, but it is the rays of crimson that shoot straight through me. Pink and orange blossom into being and I witness the full manifestation of the panoply that is sunrise. With a backflip, I go down half flying and half diving. As I race down the cliff the dawn burns behind me, seeking to catch my decent and to totally envelop me. I plunge into the center of the lake and at first all that I notice is that slightly below the surface the light is pale and the smells from above have been muted. Little by little, I feel more resistance from the water until the full forces of the lake are upon me. I suddenly know cold, and the current conspires to yank my body down to the bottom. It is soon that any light from the surface must quit our race, and I come upon the very womb of the lake. It is here that I dwell in conference with the powers of the lake to meditate upon my nature. When I decide to go on up I do so quite suddenly and through little effort, I come back to the surface. Sunrise has given way to sunset; I watch the blue bleed out from the surface. From the time I stand on the precipice the orange and pink light have given out so that the darts of crimson are the last to depart. I stand just as I did before to oversee the dying of this day.
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