Creeping on a Man's Mind

To-day we are creeping on a man's mind. Yesterday,

We rode a dragon from Gringotts. And to-morrow morning,

We shall have defeated the Dark Lord. But to-day,

To-day we are creeping on a man's mind. His greasy hair

Glistens like a-crow-drowned-in-a-pudlle-of-oil,

          And to-day we are creeping on a man's mind.

This is the early mind. And this

Is the mind later in life, whose use you will see,

When you are given the truth. And this is the answer,

Which in your case you have not got. The sacrifice

Held in the forest, silent gestures,

          Which in my  case I now have got.

This is the love, which is always released

With a flick of the wand. And please do not let him

See any of this side of me. You can do it quite easy

If you have any magic in your wand. The emotions

Are fragile and motionless, never revealing to see

          What he really thought of me.

And this you can see is the One. The purpose of him

Is to end evil, as you see. We can test him

Rapidly through sorrow and pain: we call this

Easing the burden. And rapidly backwards and forwards

The final truth is haunting but ending my doubts:

          They call it easing the Burden.

They call it easing the burden: it is perfectly simple

If you have any strength in your heart: like the lion,

And the wand, and the cloak, and the stone,

Which in our case we have not got; and the resurrection

Silent in the memories and the flashes going backwards and forwards,
For to-day we are creeping on a man's mind.

Backpacking in Ecudaor

It was 11 am, and the heat was consuming. I tried to get comfortable in my armchair underneath the parasol.

I grabbed a couple of Oreos from my bag and ate them in one bite while watching a Lady in Red (girl in a red swimsuit) buying a coconut with a straw from a moveable booth further down at the beach.

I had really been looking forward to spending time doing nothing but drinking and hanging on the beach all day. However, because Montañita is located so close to Equator, I couldn’t stay exposed to the sun for more than fifteen minutes without being burned to the ground.

A week had passed by since I’d left my travelling group without telling, and headed back towards the centre of the Quito. Before I knew it, I had taken the liberty of changing the original plan and postponed my trip to the rain forest, and instead taking a twelve-hour long bus ride to Montañita, a small coastal town located on the Peninsula of Santa Elena. 

The first thing I noticed was sand. The city was covered in it. The streets and even the floors in some bars and restaurants were covered in it. I had booked myself into a small hostel, where a small woman with tanned skin and yellow teeth showed me up on the top of the hostel where madrassas were lined up next to each other and covered with shackled mosquito nets. The canopy was in a desperate need of a fix: it was leaky several places, and a hammer, a drill and some paintbrushes were carelessly thrown next to the cabinets assigned for the guests.

Nevertheles, I would be traveling to the rain forest at some point. I mean fuck, I’m in my twenties. I need to get out and experience the world.

At the moment I was reading about he bird life in Amazonas, and I noticed a colourful bird named “Stinky Turkey”. The wildlife was sure more interesting than the birdlife back home consisting of nothing but blackbirds and woodpeckers.  

On my last night in Montañita I had my last supper: a portion of chicken soup with shallot and spring onion seasoned with coriander, and on the side: deep-fried sweet potato, and an offer of three buns for two

Two guys at the table next to my table, looking like they’d had the most horrible hangover, eating nothing but French fries.

“How are you? Feel like you’re recovering?”, one of them said. 

"Yeah, I’m don’t feel that nauseous anymore. Please explain to me again, what happened last night?”

The first guy rolled his eyes with exhaustion. 

"For fuck's sake, Tobes. Before I knew it, they'd carried you out through the emergency exit. Well, after you’d taken off that bucket trying to impersonate Lincoln with an AK64.

The other guy look at his friend, confused. 

"A broom", his friend explained, "You need to stop taking that shit, I’ve never seen a person's pupils that dilated before".

"It was a brownie, some dude sold it to me down the corner. What can I say, I was hungry."

Author Function

Author Function: Scriptor

Notion: Fear

The girl licks her salty fingers whilst holding a now empty popcorn cup, and is now presented by an enormous pink fluff of candyfloss. As smoke surrounds the arena, three tall silhouettes enters.

She has never seen anything like them. Their faces are almost deformed; pale, with protruding eyes and gigantic mouths that curls up into a somewhat grotesque smile. She starts to feel her heart pounding fiercly in her chest. One of the creatures leans over to the other and smell a flower attached to his chest, but is instantly sprayed with water. The audience burst into laughter as the soaked clown chases the other around with a bat.

Exhausted, he stops right in front of her and for a second their eyes meet. His face has started to melt but still, he gives her a smile as he emit into a rattling laughter. Unable to control herself, she bursts into a scream. Her father unsuccessfully attempts to calm her down as she desperately tries to crawl under the bench. The laughter is still roaming in her head.

Her father grabs her firmly and he makes his way out of the crowd with the hysterical girl crying at his chest, leaving salt and candyfloss bits on his shirt.

Reflection

Academic function:

Had this text been written as an academic text, the form of the content would have been much more formal and objective. The topic of the text, namely fear of clowns (Coulrophobia), would have been approached in a more scientific sense along with substantiate sources and arguments for how and why such fear arises. Furthermore, such academic texts would not include first person narrative or short or simple sentences, but instead more complex, thorough sentences. Moreover, writers of academic texts tend to write in a passive voice when stating their points. The use of adjectives would be less and word contractions such can’t, could’ve, etc. would be left out (Even though they don't appear in this text). 

Thoughts from the Frame

Just as I surrender to the conformity of my frame, I hear  the sound of that little Dalcop, that atrocious Bobolyne.

"That's my last Duchess painted on the wall…"

"Looking as is she were alive."

I dry a little droll away from the knock of my mouth, and sit up and put on that smile Pandolf conveniently granted me.

My velvet curtain is pulled aside, and there he stands, thou son of a bitch, with his tucked-in belly and tiny slippers.

And what the Damn, he has a companion;

a dry little man, who looks like a stick

with a monocle on his eye and with a moustache a ‘bit slick

"Will't please you sit and look at her?"

Oh, what's that now? Oh, oh you want him to get a nice, good look at me. Sure, sure, go ahead, I'll just keep on smiling. That'll help that continuing popping in my jaw.

"That piece a wonder, now: Frà Pandolf’s hands"

Nice one, mentioning the good sir Frá Pandolf. Nice. I see what you did there.

" The depth and passion of its earnest glance…

So flattering…

"…And seemed as they would ask me, if they durst,

How such a glance came there;"

Well, I find that quite offensive my Slobbery Sir. I ought to have that glance across my face. I actually took a walk the same day, and just as I crossed the bridge, I found myself in the presence of a sad-looking person beneath the moat.  A homeless person dare I say, eating his own foot. That's when it occurred to me: Huh. You know, I really should be thankful for not living under a moat and gnawing nail bits of my newly ripped-off foot. Hell, I can have cherries and pastries whenever I like. When asking nicely. When I'm allowed to speak. Which is a bit difficult due to the bridle, it does take certain skills to pronounce simple requests for pastries and cherries. "A heart—how shall I say?—too soon made glad… - Well, I like to think myself thankful… Too easily impressed: she liked whate’er" - Wait, wha'... "The bough of cherries some officious fool Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule" - Well, clearly you weren't available, too busy trimming your own bum hole. "She rode with round the terrace—all and each Would draw from her alike the approving speech," - Well, I like my cherries. You cannot blame a girl for fancying some cherries.

"With anybody’s gift. Who’d stoop to blame

This sort of trifling? Even had you skill

In speech—(which I have not)" To that I can agree "—to make your will

Quite clear to such an one, and say, “Just this

Or that in you disgusts me; here you miss,

Or there exceed the mark” - Guess we know who aren't wearing the Trousers in this household. "Or there exceed the mark”—and if she let Herself be lessoned so, nor plainly set Her wits to yours, forsooth, and made excuse, —E’en then would be some stooping; and I choose Never to stoop." Ooh, suddenly you're mister Big Guy. How are you planning on explaining my sudden leave of absence in this world? "Much the same smile? This grew; I gave commands; Then all smiles stopped together. There she stands As if alive." You dumb Dimhead. You just confessed everything. Guess you can kiss that big fortune of his master farewell. You have my best when you're off to the Gallows “Will’t please you rise? We’ll meet The company below, then.” Now, hold on a minute.  Mr. Stick, you did caught that, right?  "I repeat, The Count your master’s known munificence Is ample warrant that no just pretence Of mine for dowry will be disallowed; Though his fair daughter’s self, as I avowed At starting, is my object. Nay, we’ll go" Son of a.. Were you dropped on the head as an infant? Or, alternatively, were you just born stupid? My Sticky Sir, he JUST confessed he had me, his Duchess, removed from this world! My ill Sir, the Purgatory will have a special place for you. "Together down, sir. Notice Neptune, though, Taming a sea-horse, thought a rarity, Which Claus of Innsbruck cast in bronze for me!" Well, my wobbling Duke, the credit for taming that Sea-horse should be granted to me. Ever since I was put in this frame, that sea-horse and I have become… Rather fond of each other.

Life

Underneath from rising spring there is life.

Are we not taught this from the wonders of childhood,

and later when man greets his baby with his wife?

Promises of spring will come,

but soon snow will fall,

and light and warmth will be gone.

Forgive me for this depressing part I must permit,

when I tell you that the return of a swallow does not change a bit.

For new growth cannot exist without first the destruction of the old,

and therefore, nothing good shall ever last for long.

Running

The wind carries my breath far and wide,

drags my body from side to side.

Barefooted, the rocky bottom scraps my feet,

blood and sweat drops from the mountain so steep.