Avenue.

Walked through the avenue as if no one was there. She was blind to the staggering amount of people trampling over the asphalt, and she could only imagine what the actual noise was. Trapped in her own bubble of colors and imagination, in which no world was real but hers, kept on walking until the bubble popped. And as it shattered, both the avenue and the bubble dissolved, leaving nothing behind but her mind wondering through the streets of New York.

Offer.

"Who's offering $5?" – "The Lady in the back?"
"Anyone else offering more than $5?"
- "$5! ... 3... 2... 1... Sold!"
"Sold to the lady in the back!"
"Congratulations, Lady! You can come pick up your son next Sunday afternoon, we'll have him ready for you."

60 Seconds of Pure Imagination.

I've been on this site, Oneword.com, for some time now, and it's one of the most amazing sites I've been on in the last few months. It's a fun -game- to play. The game rules are as follows: You are given one word. You have 60 seconds to engage into the wildest creative writing you can get. You are limited only by the short time you're given, yet the time constraint makes you think much faster than usual and creates some wonderful expressions of pure imagination. In a nutshell, it gives you the possibility of creating, under just one minute, some awe-inspiring pieces of text.

I'll be posting some of the short writings I create in Oneword. The titles, shall be the single word from which the text sprouted and the posts, shall solely consist of said created text. I think I'll start... now.

Mist
The mist was thick. Vision was clouded by the dense mass of formless vapor; not even the prow could be seen. The captain closed his eyes; prayed to heaven. Nothing happened. It was worthless to keep trying so he closed his eyes once again, pulled the trigger and killed the mist.

Ugh. We're more American?

"Somos más Americanos" or, brutally translated, "We're more American". Song by "Los Tigres del Norte". Listened to it a couple hours ago. I really think I need to say something about it, so I will.

I feel pretty bad about this song. A song ranting about how Mexicans actually should own Colorado, New Mexico, Texas, California and whatnot. Don't get me wrong, I'm not going to say it was a a nice move from the Americans to go ahead ravage and ransack Northern Mexico more than a 150 years ago. It was -rude-. Using more eloquent words: Inhuman, savage, merciless, harsh; it was plainly impolite. I stand by what I say, but I still feel a weird mix of staggering pity and amusement when I listen to it; I get scatterbrained. Simple.

I believe I should actually be supporting the song, they are right after all, but I don't. I just can't. Maybe the way in which they express it doesn't suit me, maybe it's just the fact they are Mexican and maybe I'm racist and I haven't noticed yet. I just can't seem to feel like they have a real purpose singing it. It's not the work songs the slaves chanted while working on the plantations down in Louisiana complaining how the whips of their masters were too hard on their backs. That's a good reason to complain, right? I don't feel as if they have a good reason to, even if they do.

Oh well... Music is ever-developing. In the end I shouldn't and won't have a complete or logical opinion about this song, nor about any.

We start walking...

Oh well... And this Blog begins. I hope it'll be interesting, but that I cannot account for. I shall update regularly, or maybe just when I feel like it, but I usually have a lot to write about, so both options are pretty much the same. Yes. If not interesting, it'll probably be at least time consuming to read. I'm not an experienced blogger. I'm not an experienced writer. I'm just a bird. I don't expect any critique from this, but every bit of it is welcome. I shall introduce myself at a later time. Welcome.