The land was barren when the ancestors had come. The Sun glared and the hot earth hissed. The boiling wind tore at the flesh. It was an inhospitable place. The natural order of things here was antagonistic to these common men. What seemed like unshakable forces ruled over them, and made their short lives difficult.
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There was a thatched hut. No one knew who built it, or when. It had always been there. (more…)
Should one of the creatures with the ability to decipher these very written words visit the place in which the following story unfolds they would surely find nothing spectacular. The bland tranquil openness would most likely be of little interest, and the upon digestion of the scene the spectator might condense it in the rather unexciting verbal epitome of “Yard.” However, for the seeing eye the area was buzzing with life, and the colours blended in spectacular tapestry. The other senses were tickled with the odours mixing in perfumed fragrance, and the humming of a beautiful symphony played by a cross section of instruments of Nature that filled the space. “Preposterous!” the reading and speaking creature might exclaim, but one mustn’t speak too soon, for it is not Nature who is mute but Man who is deaf. Unfortunately, for the Yard even a slight sensibility to listening would make no difference here, for every time Man came to the Yard he came with such a being-penetrating, air-shaking, ground-rattling, and roaring companion that nothing could be heard at all. (more…)
I remember a quiet suburb surrounded by a nice forest and a relative natural silence, the kind that can’t be found there anymore. I still remember the kitchen that I would run around in, and remember playing on the driveway of that first home. Then, my family tree grew: sister was born, and we moved to a new house further from town.
Down the main road that brought us to the intersection with lights, cars, and people were a few shaded homes, rolling fields that would grow grass and flowers, or sometimes crops. I recall the forest along this road that stretched around the fields. One morning when my sister could toddle and I was getting rides to my early years of school, I noticed an abandoned barn that had the roof caved in. I had seen it before, but now it was changing in appearance. I noticed a young sprouting tree, making the most of the rain-time and sunshine pouring in from the caved roof, planting its young roots in life just like me. (more…)
** Hey all, I turned this school paper half into a blog post, and I thought I’d share it. Enjoy!
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He appeared, a little bit out of nowhere. My eyes opened in a start behind my sunglasses as Bob Dylan’s guitar and harmonica suddenly began to play on my shuffled music. I was on a crowded bus, and before me stood a young man. He was tall. His long brown hair was cleared from his grey eyes, and fell onto the brown jacket he wore over his checkered patterned dress shirt. He looked nonchalantly studious, or studiously laid back, I couldn’t tell which. He seemed a bit clumsy, and a bit goofy. The coincidental combination of this odd looking man, and of the corny up beat Bob Dylan guitar and harmonica made me chuckle. Not meanly, but the song just seemed to fit his personality perfectly. (more…)
As I write, I see CNN clips of people chanting “USA USA USA!” in the street
s, and my Facebook is flooded with statuses of relief claiming victory for Obama as victory for democracy and reason. Yet the wave of jubilation serves only to make me uneasy as most people seem to ignore the most pressing issues that face the world today, and who’s attention is solely riveted to the spectacle of election. More than one vote occurred on election night, and they were all important. (more…)
Julien Dupont 