- 956
- doriPop
Cookie-cutter Miss America speeches go here, don't they? 
Oh well, I'll have a crack at it.
Heaven (in the "land of personal perfection" sense) would be endless grass fields, the occasional crystal blue waters dimpled among the hills - bordered only by an industrial city, large towering skyscrapers, a constant dusk over the city and an ever clear blue sky on the natural side of the border.
The streets are alive with people, ever changing faces and culturally diverse like no place on earth. Technology is at a wall, sort of stuck where it is. The people move as blurred afterimages, only fully visible with a hard second glance. You feel as if you are moving at 1/8 your normal speed, life zipping around you - streetlights changing colors in a blink, cars nothing but blurred head and tail lamps, people swift ghosts among the metal and stone.
My haven is found in romanesque ruins on the other side of the border, the city a jagged and pointed spire on the horizon. Somewhere between these two worlds awaits my "someone" - the other half of myself that completes me.
The entire thing is like a large artistic metaphor for my life, how I lived it while I was alive. Forgive me if it seems a little too deep in comparison to the other posts here, perhaps I got a little carried away. ^^;
As an artist, it's hard to look through a dirty window and not see the beauty in the scratched surface as opposed to the lush landscape just beyond the glass.
Oh well, I'll have a crack at it.
Heaven (in the "land of personal perfection" sense) would be endless grass fields, the occasional crystal blue waters dimpled among the hills - bordered only by an industrial city, large towering skyscrapers, a constant dusk over the city and an ever clear blue sky on the natural side of the border.
The streets are alive with people, ever changing faces and culturally diverse like no place on earth. Technology is at a wall, sort of stuck where it is. The people move as blurred afterimages, only fully visible with a hard second glance. You feel as if you are moving at 1/8 your normal speed, life zipping around you - streetlights changing colors in a blink, cars nothing but blurred head and tail lamps, people swift ghosts among the metal and stone.
My haven is found in romanesque ruins on the other side of the border, the city a jagged and pointed spire on the horizon. Somewhere between these two worlds awaits my "someone" - the other half of myself that completes me.
The entire thing is like a large artistic metaphor for my life, how I lived it while I was alive. Forgive me if it seems a little too deep in comparison to the other posts here, perhaps I got a little carried away. ^^;
As an artist, it's hard to look through a dirty window and not see the beauty in the scratched surface as opposed to the lush landscape just beyond the glass.
