dabbled

I stumbled upon a room. Not a very odd room in fact it was a quite normal room, one for business and meetings. Upon entering myself i gazed upon the works of elderly folk. They were very kind welcoming me to observe what they had bought from paint to canvas. They all had their oddities. Some were sickly. some were healthy. Nonetheless they welcomed to me in their into their batch. They created a magnificence of scenery. Raging from animals to fountains, to trees. They crafted stories with their brushes and pens. Id like to say I created memories with the short time I had with them, or maybe i'll just slip their minds into the dwellings of the subconscious. Maybe they'll remember the young girl who stumbled in, who fell down the rabbit hole with shades of personality. What they do does not only bring joy to themselves but it creates something that doesn't fade, that doesn't rot, its inhuman, but we gaze upon these crafts like a window looking into their beings. This is how I found that my once crystallized view of who I am, who I believe myself and others to be may be liquid. 

Author's Note

a short dabble. Please send tips, advice, thoughts. :)

Reviews

[MightyMouse]

Beautiful work. The only thing I can see that needs work is a few grammar mistakes. One of your sentences has a few extra words in it. "...to me in their into their batch..." Threw me off a little. But you did a wonderful job.

[D. A. Alson]

Thank you so much!