He was thirsty.
Water wasn’t enough.
Someday, this will be over– only remembered like some half-felt and fading nightmare.
The sun is still rising from the east and setting from the west,
Birds are flying up and about without a care in the world,
Animals are roaming freely in their habitats,
The weather is having its usual cycles from one season to another,
The seas are going through their usual mood swings,
There is so much which hasn’t changed yet there is so much which is different,
Jobs have disappeared leaving many penniless,
There is a real struggle for food and water,
Businesses have been shut leaving people at home,
Cracks have appeared in family relationships leaving many broken families,
But hope is all what we have and can cling onto amidst this chaos.
Gorky Central Park of Culture and Leisure (Центральный парк культуры и отдыха имени Горького) is one of Moscow’s Central parks located next to the Moskva river and spans an area of about 300 acres. It’s the perfect place to see the way Russians spend their free time. The park gets its name from the famous Soviet writer, Maxim Gorky.
While at an earlier point of time, the park had various rides including roller-coasters, today it is more of an eco-friendly park which also has an ice-skating rink and wi-fi.
I had come to the park with the intention of taking the Radisson Cruise on the tranquil waters of the Moskva river. Since I missed it by a few minutes, I decided to take a walk along the river itself. And mind you, while it does look sunny, the temperatures were still hovering around -5 degrees.
With all the snow round, Gorky Park looked really beautiful.
PHOTO PROMPT – © Madison Woods
“Why did I have to agree to work in the lab the entire night?” He said to no one in particular.
Though George didn’t believe in ghosts, he felt a bit uneasy thinking that he was the only soul in the entire building that night. As he stepped out of the lab to drink water from the nearby cooler, he heard what sounded like water falling from somewhere. Was it a leaking faucet or something more?
Whatever the case, he kept himself busy and didn’t dare come out of the lab for the rest of the night.
Linking to NaBloPoMo (National Blog Post Month – May – My post no 2 for this month.
Source: PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Georgia Koch
Though it appeared as nothing more than an antique piece of wood for anyone, for Raju it was his daily bread and butter.
For years, he had been taking his wooden boat out into the open sea to get his daily catch of fish for selling in the open market. From extreme heat to deadly winds and rain, his boat had weathered it all.
Seeing that it could sail through every challenge in his life, he had slowly but surely developed an attachment towards it so much so that he refused an offer to put it up in a museum.
Linking to NaBloPoMo (National Blog Post Month – January) – My post no 12 for this month.
PHOTO PROMPT – Copyright – Sandra Crook
“Dad, they have turned this river into a dustbin. From logs of wood to bottles of every shape and size, there is so much waste dumped here.”
“Ronnie, now you know why the environment gets back at us, don’t you?”
As the father and son walked around the banks of the river, Ronnie was shocked to see the destruction humans had brought upon this natural water body.
While his dad had been part of various cleaning campaigns as part of the local NGO, Ronnie had accompanied him for the first time and couldn’t believe his eyes on what he saw.
Linking to NaBloPoMo (National Blog Post Month – December) – My post no 9 for this month.
“How can you even think of taking a bath when we don’t even have enough drinking water?”
They were facing the worst drought in decades. With destroyed crops and deaths due to excessive thirst, the drought had started to affect daily lives. There was water all around the island but not a drop to drink.
If one writes to put thoughts into words, another writes so that emotions can be given a platform. If one writes to make people aware in the society, another writes to bring a smile on someone’s face. Whatever be the reason, writing has the potential of bringing change and making people sit up and take notice of things they may have not heard of at an earlier point in time. It has the capability of changing people’s lives for the good or the bad in a matter of minutes.
So what does writing mean to me? If I come to think of it, writing defines my life in five different ways –