Images my teacher says. Jot them down. Ten a day. Images you can use to build stories. Now it’s almost 6PM; I’ve been busy all day with writing and cooking and laundry and Vivian Maier…and nary an image. Well, one, of the front window shade most of the way drawn so I can deny it is one more bright sunny day. That’s an image for a story—one of my railing against high desert sun stories.
Nine images to go. Wait. The clothes are dry, ready to fold. May as well shower while I’m up. It’s nice the way the lamp lights the masks from Bali hanging just above it. They’re from the most famous mask-maker in Ubud; we went there about 25 years ago. That’s an image with a story to go with it. Yay, up to two…
Eight more and almost time for Downton Abbey. How about the image of Lord Grantham walking toward castle with his faithful dog Isis. That stays in my mind. Surely I could make some sort of story about my castle experiences. Perhaps only one. In Poland. And Scotland. With a lover. Now there’s a story.
Three down, seven to imagine.
There are seven sights about the apartment I like—with stories connected. My shiny speckled Minnesota Walleye so beautifully carved by artist Dan. Purple elephant just come from Sri Lanka with Steven and me. Got an ink spot on the white footstool cover which Patricia turned into a flower—reminds of my lovely granddaughter every time I prop my feet up.
To return after Downtown Abbey.
Cheating now because I want to watch Grantchester. My bedroom wall of family history holds all of the images I will need for awhile. I intend to write a small story about each so that my family can enjoy them in the me-less future.