This was the party by the lake in the summer of anytime throughout horse-carriaged history. Young lovers with hearts fuller than the day brings. Old couples who have molded into eachother’s favorite jokes. Knowing just what to say for the reaction of that. Strict parents abiding to their own fathers and mothers wishes. All a repeated cycle for summertime lovers generations to arrive.
Sunny days. Plenty of fresh food of all arrangements for the variety of people and the food they bring, along with their custom appetites toward that warm summer day.
Fifty people, all surrounded by loved ones. Champagne perhaps. Sodas and sugared drinks for those unable to drink. And plenty of water for the tamed delight of just living.
Talks of literature. The hilarity of Wilde and his liberated witty expression. A pioneer in exploration. The teachings of Thoreau and how he found the soil of the mind in its prime accessible seedlings. The taste of W.B Yeats poetry, with the sugared and root beer sensation of tasteful writing. James Joyce and his expression of historic consciousness. The writers who paved their way for movies. The accents of personality and character. All forming to their own histories.
The child walking happily with the ducks. A few years older, the game of tag with the joy of running and helping one another if they fell.
The teenagers competitively making a name for themselves. Soaked up in the lore of their generation. Wild flowers that have remained since they lived there.
Adults looking back and forward and present into each generations moment in time and space. Not enough time to soak it all in as the moment of keeping the vibe salient and moving becomes priority.
The dance of life engaged. The horses being pet by more people than they commonly see. Dogs running free. The lake is warm and rippling.
Then one person leaves and the body of it all changes. An hour later, five more bodies disappear back home. The longer one stays, the more they can look back on.
All a feeling. All a comfort. All a lesson. All a remembrance. Summertime at the lake with a golden ticket called an invite. Ignite the morning. Lead it to the afternoon. See where your nature guides you toward the evening.
Go buy a new book. Read it outloud on the streets. Proclaim the dreams of Summer to a dreary fall audience.
Journalistic Writing
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I really liked the extent of description in this piece and the idea that you leave it to the imagination of the reader to paint the picture. There’s a strong use of vocabulary and an interpretation of various emotions throughout. It’s almost complex, but it in a simple manner. Reminds me of the simplicity of life and the importance of treasuring moments. Great job!