All posts tagged: creative writing

Golden Orange Hues

Golden hues filter in through the window As night falls slowly and the air becomes crisp. In the distance, the bridge’s towers gently pierce the tinted sky And the waves roll in, crashing softly, Coming and going, coming and going. A woman sings sweetly Playing gorgeous melodies with her guitar. The travelers listen intently, enraptured. The magic is palpable, created with each song And destroyed once again with each forthcoming silence. The guitar allows itself to be strummed generously, As the darkness outside engulfs everything in its path. The warm lights inside the cafe are cozy and welcoming, Offering a safe space to connect, to write, to dream, To breathe in the beauty of this moment And of this life. Mahalo, soul of mine, For your generous gifts of song, of word, of breathtaking views, And of pure light. Photo by: Belén Alemán

Did I Really Just Meet The Real-Life Carrie From “Sex and the City”?

…Yes, yes I did. I’m not kidding. If Carrie hadn’t married Big and wasn’t living in a multi-million dollar New York City apartment, she would be living in San Francisco, have a boyfriend, and would be running her own successful business helping companies craft their stories through creative writing. And she would be THE BOMB. Real-life Carrie worked as a journalist for 15 years, both in newspapers and in magazines; at one time, she was the editor of Elle. Like most women that have lived in NYC, she can rattle off crazy dating stories like it’s her job, and she’s quick to smile and laugh, just like fictional Carrie. They share a subtle similarity in voice tone, and they are both tiny, fit and, simply put, badass. Real-life Carrie has been in San Francisco for 7 years after pausing her career to get an MBA with a focus on sustainability. As a journalist, she discovered she didn’t like the objective gap needed when interviewing others; instead, she wanted to side with the people she met, feel …

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I stood firmly on the cooling, white sand, Feet shoulder-length apart, Feeling the weight of my camera underneath my bare hands, The warm breeze softly enveloping me in its gentle caress As the sun, barely visible now over the distant horizon, Played with the clouds and helped them taint the sky with mild hues of yellow and gray. The familiar smell of sun-tan lotion emanated from my skin Mixing in with the unique fragrances of a midsummer evening’s dream. Seagulls wove in and out of my line of vision, Floating up above as if threatening to strike, Trying to instill a fear in me that would never exist For I was much too accustomed already to this sight. The events of the day hung lazily in the air, Slowly becoming part of the memories I would never share With people I would never meet. Cheerful words, piercing looks, joyful laughter, Maybe even some tears from a mischievous child… All lingered for a few eternal seconds Before finally being replaced by a peaceful silence Aided by …