Vignettes
A messy desk of pencil sketches, concept art for a movie you never saw. A painting in a museum, completed two hundred years ago. A curious snippet of conversation you catch as you walk out of a restaurant into a cold winter night. A song that ends before you thought it would. A conversation you could have had, but didn’t. A memory.
Life is full of vignettes. Not full stories, really, but moments. Scenes. Snippets. I like reading them, and I like writing them. Here are some.
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“Now you were accustomed to see the bare trees against the sky and you walked on the fresh-washed gravel paths through the Luxembourg gardens in the clear sharp wind. The trees were sculpture without their leaves when you were reconciled to them, and the winter winds blew across the surfaces of the ponds and the fountains blew in the bright light.”
— Ernest Hemingway, writing in A Moveable Feast