As she sits in her livingroom she can hear the low sound of the tv, as it is the backdrop for her and her husbands day for which is filled with them both getting sick. She was visiting her family and and when she returned home midweek, she found herself the next day very sick with severe stomach pains, that left her in her bathroom trapped with no where to go. She found herself projectile vomiting and other things too bad to mention. Her husband was doing his best to help her out, but to no avail, he ended up trying to sleep on the couch with the noise traveling thru the house. She was far too week to try and move, and so sometime during the early the next morning she had moved herself to the floor, and stayed there trying to just get thru. Her stomach wrenching, overcome with chills, and still no end in sight. Some how she had fallen asleep and when she woke, her husband had left. She found herself with such a headache; it added to the other aches and pains she was already feeling from whatever had taken over her body. She thought maybe it was Her salad from the night before, but her husband had the same thing and he was ok. So, the only other could possibly be, she got some kind of bug. Her grandson she had gone to visit was not feeling well before she left, but she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions as of yet. She just tried to get thru the moments, for which , later in the morning, she ended up making an essential oils mixed together and rubbed on her feet, back of her neck and at her pressure point on her head from the pain. It was meant to help with the pain and hopefully help her sleep. And that is exactly what it did. She woke from the couch from where she was sleeping and looked at the clock, it was 3:00pm. Holy-Moly was all she could get out of her mouth, as she made a mental note, her oils worked.
She was stlll feeling dizzy, but able to get up and get herself some more water. It is the only thing she is able to keep down, still from Thursday night. And tries to keep down, so as she doesn’t get dehydrated. She manages to get herself moving enough to accomplish some things getting done, taking it very slow. By this time her husband returns home from work and can still see how much she is being overtaken. He helps her out with getting her more water and then brings in some organic apple juice, as he prays for his wife that night for some kind of relief for her. He has watched her walk thru it all, and this is one more thing he has kept his promise to always be there for her, as well as, she for him. Many trips still back and forth to the place. Still week and nausea, but this night they will be sleeping together. She got up during the night, but was able take care of things, even though she was still nauseated, dizzy, and other things. Finally when , they woke up Saturday morning, she wasn’t feeling dizzy, but stomach still acting up. She at this point still had nothing to eat, and continued with her apple juice and water.
After taking a shower she felt much better and so they got ready to go to a goodbye event with their friends that was later that afternoon. It was a great event and everyone was so happy to see each other; some it had been awhile and others, not so long ago. Everyone smiling and enjoying being in community together, was healing for her, as she took in every moment. She was watching what she ate, only trying a few berries, and a couple of small meatballs, made by her oldest and dearest friend; who brought great joy to her as they shared great conversation while she ate them slowly and was ok. She was so thankful, especially after her husband noticed and keenly keeping his eye on her, so as she is still doing good. And she was, after they left. She was able to go for a drive and walk around with her husband, as he kept close eye on her. They found a little place, that made homemade corn tortillas and so they attempted to try and have some cheese quesadillas and chips with mild salsa. It tasted so good on her tongue she was savoring every tiny bite. Unfortunately, only after a few she could not finish, and her stomach was hurting again. She was nauseous again and having to revisit what had become her favorite room. And feeling dizzy again. The evening was of her trying to get thru this again with the evening of being on the couch again, only now with him making sure she was being taken care of with her hot and room temperature water and more apple juice. They were able to sleep together, again this night. Waking with much less nausea, but again visiting her favorite room.
So, this day today, Sunday is now filled with some knowns and unknowns. Known: she was able to eat a very tiny piece of her yesterday’s food. No more, no less. It was hard, but she ate it anyway, because it needed to try and get her energy back. And it definitely helped. She has been able to write and talk to her children over the phone to find out this bug has been reeking-havoc on her son and his family. Yikes, not good, but she knows she has to power thru, especially for her husband, since he now has it. Dizzy, dizzy her head is spinning, but she is good while on the couch with her husband as she now is giving back to him, what he has done for her.
Backdrop. The wall had a backdrop of another world. Another place. another dimension. I walk through it and come face to face to my dream. My dream is a very special place
the subtext contextualized
refrain remains unchanged
the backdrop
continues to drip
the motionless emotion
ripped to bits
never one for sentiment
the words forgotten
lost to time
at last
Backdrops are unique ways to explain what you are talking about or presenting with greater depth, channeling your ideas through yet another plane, visually. Backdrops are always subjectively chosen based on your thoughts in mind to express your artistic mindset.
“Keep it simple.” The last three words she ever heard her mom speak. The flight back to her hometown felt as if she was flying internationally. The two hours felt like eight. She new there was no chance of jet lag. But she had some kind of lag. Her older brothers were useless. They were use to seeing her mom slowly decline. She on the other hand moved out when she was 18. They had an argument over who knew what was best for her. Now with children of her own, she was flying back to tell her mom “I get it.” But as she walked through the hospital doors it dawned on her, she may never get the chance to. She started beating herself up verbally. Quiet chatter in her head. When she left she believed she believed the world was at her fingertips. Decisions had to be made. She was the executor of mother’s health care finacens. Her mother had been paranoid over the last several year. The backdrop of her family tree looked like old broken branches, dried, splintered bark. When looking at it to long it was hard to see where it began and where it could end. More like a bed of weeds pretending to be a flourishing tree. She could. To be fooled.
Tap, tap, tap, tap! The sound came from the backdrop of the set rehearsals have been going on for three weeks. This was the first time they all heard the tapping. Every night at nine Lisa would be placing the props back in their bins and every night since practice began she heard the noice. Her fellow thespians would tilt their heads and laugh every night she asked “ do you here it no?” She stopped asking after the second week of rehearsals, a question that brought laughter instead of a yes or no. Here they all were gathered around the prop room helping her fill the bins. Everyone forgot about the tapping until everyone remembered. Tap, tap, tap, Tap! No one was laughing at Lisa’s unspoken question. They looked her in the eyes, and without words they could tell she was asking “do you here it now?”
She posed, hips slightly forward, lips pursed just like she had practiced, leg raised, head angled. The white backdrop made her red lipstick pop, but the boredom and exhaustion in her eyes made it clear that the money really wasn’t cutting it.
Backdrop, I am not sure what it means since english is not my first language. I will have to google translate it. Well, I have an idea of what it means in swedish, probably: bakgrund, or am I wrong?
The backdrop showed flowing green hills and grass that swayed in the wind. Above, the sky glowed blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds very like the cotton balls scattered across the floor of the stage. A few were caught on nails that stuck out of the splintered wood like rusty old thorns.
Ouch! The backdrop hit him on the head. He hand practiced the timing in rehearsal at least 6 maybe 7 times. Yet, there he stood with a bruise to prove he once again missed the marked. A battle wound to prove his point.
The backdrop of my life has been far from what I anticipated it would be. It is often cluttered with items I hadn’t noticed were there or I had collected along the way. While some of the things provide perfect context for what is going on, others need to go!
The backdrop is sunny and warm and ironic, the photoshoot has you in skimpy clothes during such cold weather and you wish you were a part of that picture, instead of the one they’re taking right now. It’s cruel.
the backdrop to his confession was mahogany. it was steel against ochre and it was as warm as it was imposing. something in his throat that made it all the more debilitating to force out. a parent’s stern gaze upon a child they know has done wrong, and is only waiting to hear their confirmation.
He stepped into the drop of a runny egg upon the floor He had just eaten his breakfast and now a backdrop of a cup of coffee was the next step in the kitchen.
The backdrop of a curtain. a play. Maybe CAts or wicked? I’ve always wanted to be an actor in a play. The sights and sounds and the attention of the audience. Commanding authority and being the star. I love to be dramatic. I think I have what it takes. It would be so fun. Like Black Swan. I am the black swan. fuck man!!
You’re in court. An observer to the criminal act that the law is trying to thwart. Provoke them, reach into the stress of it all and prepare your report. Let your mind be your own resort. Do not let vicarious details ever distort. You’re your own escort and the backdrop to this trial.
Absorb the lessons terribly old,
feel your back drop into its comfortable mold,
Letting wisdom seep,
into the crevasse between your chest and spine,
let it creep,
upwards like an ivy-league vine,
then release it instantaneous;
a mine, except there’s no explosion.
Mantra made slogan, aging infinitely like a fine-wine.
All of us smile! we all say: “I’m fine” answering to the question: how you are!
but is it the reality of every one of us!! we can’t know!! life contains many surprises for us! each one has secrets; you can see its life as many stories… each one could hide the sadness with its smile the pain with strength…we can switch the tears with “it’s okay”…
these are our backdrop; there is one person who could know the reality of them is the one who loves you ! who feels with you, who takes care about you! who understands the meaning of your words if you say i’m okay he says what happened !! this person who lives your slides is a pearl in your life…
Stop. Look around. What do you see? Take a moment from the hustle and bustle that is your life and appreciate all that is truly there. Put the screen down. Stop trying to capture moments of your life to share on social media, and experience it. Be selfish. Indulge in the moment.
I stared at the backdrop as I waited for Raul’s call. Forty hours of work and this is all he could produce. I knew that he did abstract work, but this was just awful. The white canvas was filled from end to end with huge blobs of red, yellow, and orange paint. There was no pattern to it, no meaning. He couldn’t even bother to use some cool colors to even it out. It looked like something my cat would vomit
Wallflower. Unnoticed. Hidden behind a bright spotlight.
In that darkness, you are free. Free to do as you please, you can jump into the air and aim high. You are free to question. To believe. To fly under the radar.
You want the scenery to be pristine. You want it to match the foreground, make it pop, make it stand out in more ways than one could originally perceive. Because of this, you can’t decide on a backdrop. You’ve tried all sorts of colors and patterns – physical, digital – but none of them seem to match the hue of his eyes. Or complement the shape of his jaw. Or pronounce the curl of his lips as he smiles with another secret hiding behind his tongue.
As she sits in her livingroom she can hear the low sound of the tv, as it is the backdrop for her and her husbands day for which is filled with them both getting sick. She was visiting her family and and when she returned home midweek, she found herself the next day very sick with severe stomach pains, that left her in her bathroom trapped with no where to go. She found herself projectile vomiting and other things too bad to mention. Her husband was doing his best to help her out, but to no avail, he ended up trying to sleep on the couch with the noise traveling thru the house. She was far too week to try and move, and so sometime during the early the next morning she had moved herself to the floor, and stayed there trying to just get thru. Her stomach wrenching, overcome with chills, and still no end in sight. Some how she had fallen asleep and when she woke, her husband had left. She found herself with such a headache; it added to the other aches and pains she was already feeling from whatever had taken over her body. She thought maybe it was Her salad from the night before, but her husband had the same thing and he was ok. So, the only other could possibly be, she got some kind of bug. Her grandson she had gone to visit was not feeling well before she left, but she didn’t want to jump to any conclusions as of yet. She just tried to get thru the moments, for which , later in the morning, she ended up making an essential oils mixed together and rubbed on her feet, back of her neck and at her pressure point on her head from the pain. It was meant to help with the pain and hopefully help her sleep. And that is exactly what it did. She woke from the couch from where she was sleeping and looked at the clock, it was 3:00pm. Holy-Moly was all she could get out of her mouth, as she made a mental note, her oils worked.
She was stlll feeling dizzy, but able to get up and get herself some more water. It is the only thing she is able to keep down, still from Thursday night. And tries to keep down, so as she doesn’t get dehydrated. She manages to get herself moving enough to accomplish some things getting done, taking it very slow. By this time her husband returns home from work and can still see how much she is being overtaken. He helps her out with getting her more water and then brings in some organic apple juice, as he prays for his wife that night for some kind of relief for her. He has watched her walk thru it all, and this is one more thing he has kept his promise to always be there for her, as well as, she for him. Many trips still back and forth to the place. Still week and nausea, but this night they will be sleeping together. She got up during the night, but was able take care of things, even though she was still nauseated, dizzy, and other things. Finally when , they woke up Saturday morning, she wasn’t feeling dizzy, but stomach still acting up. She at this point still had nothing to eat, and continued with her apple juice and water.
After taking a shower she felt much better and so they got ready to go to a goodbye event with their friends that was later that afternoon. It was a great event and everyone was so happy to see each other; some it had been awhile and others, not so long ago. Everyone smiling and enjoying being in community together, was healing for her, as she took in every moment. She was watching what she ate, only trying a few berries, and a couple of small meatballs, made by her oldest and dearest friend; who brought great joy to her as they shared great conversation while she ate them slowly and was ok. She was so thankful, especially after her husband noticed and keenly keeping his eye on her, so as she is still doing good. And she was, after they left. She was able to go for a drive and walk around with her husband, as he kept close eye on her. They found a little place, that made homemade corn tortillas and so they attempted to try and have some cheese quesadillas and chips with mild salsa. It tasted so good on her tongue she was savoring every tiny bite. Unfortunately, only after a few she could not finish, and her stomach was hurting again. She was nauseous again and having to revisit what had become her favorite room. And feeling dizzy again. The evening was of her trying to get thru this again with the evening of being on the couch again, only now with him making sure she was being taken care of with her hot and room temperature water and more apple juice. They were able to sleep together, again this night. Waking with much less nausea, but again visiting her favorite room.
So, this day today, Sunday is now filled with some knowns and unknowns. Known: she was able to eat a very tiny piece of her yesterday’s food. No more, no less. It was hard, but she ate it anyway, because it needed to try and get her energy back. And it definitely helped. She has been able to write and talk to her children over the phone to find out this bug has been reeking-havoc on her son and his family. Yikes, not good, but she knows she has to power thru, especially for her husband, since he now has it. Dizzy, dizzy her head is spinning, but she is good while on the couch with her husband as she now is giving back to him, what he has done for her.
Backdrop. The wall had a backdrop of another world. Another place. another dimension. I walk through it and come face to face to my dream. My dream is a very special place
the subtext contextualized
refrain remains unchanged
the backdrop
continues to drip
the motionless emotion
ripped to bits
never one for sentiment
the words forgotten
lost to time
at last
Backdrops are unique ways to explain what you are talking about or presenting with greater depth, channeling your ideas through yet another plane, visually. Backdrops are always subjectively chosen based on your thoughts in mind to express your artistic mindset.
“Keep it simple.” The last three words she ever heard her mom speak. The flight back to her hometown felt as if she was flying internationally. The two hours felt like eight. She new there was no chance of jet lag. But she had some kind of lag. Her older brothers were useless. They were use to seeing her mom slowly decline. She on the other hand moved out when she was 18. They had an argument over who knew what was best for her. Now with children of her own, she was flying back to tell her mom “I get it.” But as she walked through the hospital doors it dawned on her, she may never get the chance to. She started beating herself up verbally. Quiet chatter in her head. When she left she believed she believed the world was at her fingertips. Decisions had to be made. She was the executor of mother’s health care finacens. Her mother had been paranoid over the last several year. The backdrop of her family tree looked like old broken branches, dried, splintered bark. When looking at it to long it was hard to see where it began and where it could end. More like a bed of weeds pretending to be a flourishing tree. She could. To be fooled.
Tap, tap, tap, tap! The sound came from the backdrop of the set rehearsals have been going on for three weeks. This was the first time they all heard the tapping. Every night at nine Lisa would be placing the props back in their bins and every night since practice began she heard the noice. Her fellow thespians would tilt their heads and laugh every night she asked “ do you here it no?” She stopped asking after the second week of rehearsals, a question that brought laughter instead of a yes or no. Here they all were gathered around the prop room helping her fill the bins. Everyone forgot about the tapping until everyone remembered. Tap, tap, tap, Tap! No one was laughing at Lisa’s unspoken question. They looked her in the eyes, and without words they could tell she was asking “do you here it now?”
She posed, hips slightly forward, lips pursed just like she had practiced, leg raised, head angled. The white backdrop made her red lipstick pop, but the boredom and exhaustion in her eyes made it clear that the money really wasn’t cutting it.
Backdrop, I am not sure what it means since english is not my first language. I will have to google translate it. Well, I have an idea of what it means in swedish, probably: bakgrund, or am I wrong?
The backdrop showed flowing green hills and grass that swayed in the wind. Above, the sky glowed blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds very like the cotton balls scattered across the floor of the stage. A few were caught on nails that stuck out of the splintered wood like rusty old thorns.
Ouch! The backdrop hit him on the head. He hand practiced the timing in rehearsal at least 6 maybe 7 times. Yet, there he stood with a bruise to prove he once again missed the marked. A battle wound to prove his point.
The backdrop of my life has been far from what I anticipated it would be. It is often cluttered with items I hadn’t noticed were there or I had collected along the way. While some of the things provide perfect context for what is going on, others need to go!
The backdrop is sunny and warm and ironic, the photoshoot has you in skimpy clothes during such cold weather and you wish you were a part of that picture, instead of the one they’re taking right now. It’s cruel.
the backdrop to his confession was mahogany. it was steel against ochre and it was as warm as it was imposing. something in his throat that made it all the more debilitating to force out. a parent’s stern gaze upon a child they know has done wrong, and is only waiting to hear their confirmation.
What? I am here again? The same story? Will play out?
No!
Not this time.
This time, I’ll get it right.
He stepped into the drop of a runny egg upon the floor He had just eaten his breakfast and now a backdrop of a cup of coffee was the next step in the kitchen.
The backdrop of a curtain. a play. Maybe CAts or wicked? I’ve always wanted to be an actor in a play. The sights and sounds and the attention of the audience. Commanding authority and being the star. I love to be dramatic. I think I have what it takes. It would be so fun. Like Black Swan. I am the black swan. fuck man!!
I LIKE THE BACKDROP ON THE PICTURE YOU TOOK TODAY. I THINK THE COLORS GO ALONG QUITE WELL WITH THE COLORS THAT ARE IN YOUR CLOTHES. I THIN
You’re in court. An observer to the criminal act that the law is trying to thwart. Provoke them, reach into the stress of it all and prepare your report. Let your mind be your own resort. Do not let vicarious details ever distort. You’re your own escort and the backdrop to this trial.
Absorb the lessons terribly old,
feel your back drop into its comfortable mold,
Letting wisdom seep,
into the crevasse between your chest and spine,
let it creep,
upwards like an ivy-league vine,
then release it instantaneous;
a mine, except there’s no explosion.
Mantra made slogan, aging infinitely like a fine-wine.
All of us smile! we all say: “I’m fine” answering to the question: how you are!
but is it the reality of every one of us!! we can’t know!! life contains many surprises for us! each one has secrets; you can see its life as many stories… each one could hide the sadness with its smile the pain with strength…we can switch the tears with “it’s okay”…
these are our backdrop; there is one person who could know the reality of them is the one who loves you ! who feels with you, who takes care about you! who understands the meaning of your words if you say i’m okay he says what happened !! this person who lives your slides is a pearl in your life…
Stop. Look around. What do you see? Take a moment from the hustle and bustle that is your life and appreciate all that is truly there. Put the screen down. Stop trying to capture moments of your life to share on social media, and experience it. Be selfish. Indulge in the moment.
I stared at the backdrop as I waited for Raul’s call. Forty hours of work and this is all he could produce. I knew that he did abstract work, but this was just awful. The white canvas was filled from end to end with huge blobs of red, yellow, and orange paint. There was no pattern to it, no meaning. He couldn’t even bother to use some cool colors to even it out. It looked like something my cat would vomit
Wallflower. Unnoticed. Hidden behind a bright spotlight.
In that darkness, you are free. Free to do as you please, you can jump into the air and aim high. You are free to question. To believe. To fly under the radar.
You want the scenery to be pristine. You want it to match the foreground, make it pop, make it stand out in more ways than one could originally perceive. Because of this, you can’t decide on a backdrop. You’ve tried all sorts of colors and patterns – physical, digital – but none of them seem to match the hue of his eyes. Or complement the shape of his jaw. Or pronounce the curl of his lips as he smiles with another secret hiding behind his tongue.