Under a bouquet of flowers, I found the girl of my fictitious writing. Brown hair and fynbos flowers. A voice that speaks poetry and sings in piano keys. This week marks one of the last weeks before we travel back to the coast. From there, I will begin my journey into the land of academic writing and teaching.

For now, I share with you the photographs of our most recent shoot. We found a local flower shop that sold this bouquet of fynbos flowers and I could not resist it. I really hope you enjoy them. Below, I will end off with some free-write musings.

An Ode to the Girl Who I Could Never Write

Postscriptum, or A Short Freewrite

She drinks a potion of flowers and gin and various spices. Blue, pink, purple, and colors with no name. Her words are coated with poetic masks and piano keys stained with the roots of flowers. I try to speak to her, to listen to her, but from the shadows, she grows into a flower herself. Slowly she sets her roots in the ground and begins to grow into a wonderful flower.

I pick the flower and place it between the pages of my poetry book. Late that night, I hear the door open and before me, she stands with flowers still stuck in her hair. I do not know what to do. I pick her up and place her on the ground and she started to grow again. I wait till the moon shines onto her flower head and I pick it again. This time I boil the kettle and make myself tea from her sweet leaves. I sit underneath the moon and I look at the stars as I hear how her fingers tickle the keys on the piano.

In any case, this free write has gone into some weird place. I hope you enjoyed the photographs. All of the photographs are my own, taken with my Nikon D300 and Tamron 300mm lens. The musings are also my own.