I kept walking. I wanted to distance myself from the rantings of the (former) friend who had stopped walking alongside me (both literally and metaphorically at this time). I didn’t need to deal with this bull.
That’s how we met. Along that street, in that time of the day when that sun dipped into someplace we’ve never known. You crossed my path, or maybe I crossed yours.
ARC
@After that, there wasn’t much that could be said. After all, he was annoyed and she was annoyed as they walked down the pavement to the crossing. Their walks were in synch and she tried to make it less so, she didn’t want to fall in pace with him so she speeded up and slowed down as he matched her. But they still ended up at the crossing together. She sighed. After all her attempts to lose him he was still there. He was smirking. Loving the fact that she, in her annoyance, had created this game to be more annoyed than him, this competitive game that spun around them like some kind of labyrinth of emotion. All their crap, all their stupid little childlike urges for winning were thrown up right there next to the pedestrian crossing. She went for the button, he went for the button. Their fingers touched.
Early that day they had been in bed together. First on the floor of the living room until her knees started to hurt and he got carpet burns on his arse. Then kissing on the stairs, kissing everywhere. Then finally in bed, though that always seemed strange to her when it was midday and it was ostensibly a place to sleep. He didn’t think about things like that in the midst of passion, but she did. And the annoyance had started there. Why did he always want to go to the bed? She could have stayed on the sofa but he avoided it, and she knew why. It was his precious sofa and there was no way he was going to defile it with their sex. Though he didn’t acknowledge this, it wasn’t a conscious decision, for him it did feel wrong to do it there. And so from the moment they had hit the carpet, a tension was there.
The thing about couples is that when that tension arrives, even if both parties see it, recognise it, hear it’s tone in the voice of their beloved. Even if the elephant trumpets in their faces, after a time they will ignore it. Because there is nothing worse than pointing it out.. Because that is when the argument will begin.
Rachel Sambrooks
Cross walk, don’t cross me, just keep walking. Just keep moving, moving, our paths crossed but we must keep walking on the same secret road. We’re on two paths in the wood and we met in our secret, green, magic grove but now it’s time to split and I can still hear you through the trees, and I can still hear your breathing and your footsteps and maybe your heart still beating in my chest.
Hannah
Two feet on the pavement,
one step above the crosswalk,
and across is the vision
of you, features highlighted by
bright sunlight;
your own golden glow
Crosswalks. The invention in the hope to save lives. Every year, thousands of individuals are hit by vehicles on public roads while crossing, and there was an enormous incentive for the government to take action. And so they did. With the invention of the zebra striped paths.
The crosswalk is an odd invention. They’re always at intersections? No, they’re sometimes in the middle of the street. But I’ll never forget the time we got a ticket for jaywalking when we didn’t use the crosswalk only a few feet away. We went to court and it was dismissed but what a hassle that was. I still jaywalk!
heading for town. God how I hate running out of essentials. Passing the kids on the corner. Passing the basement flats with the smell
Tim Brook
Things here were usually quiet, there was a charm to that, and everyday was the same, the crowd of kids would filter out of the school and swarm towards the same crossing day in and day out. Nothing bad ever happened there.
walking in the safe confines of a cross walk. living like there is something to fear outside of it. looking with the eyes,but allowing the mind to tell you this is the safest place to be. safety is ok, but not when you are sacrificing growth
A pelican or a zebra. Any kind of pedestrian crossing, where we walk across the road. Where it is safe to walk, or so we are told. Vehicles come at us. Some vehicles, the metal boxy ones, stop. Others, those on two wheels, sail past our startled faces, oblivious.
Laura
As she surveyed the busy road she had seconds to decide whether to use the crosswalk or to make a speedy dash for it. The thief ran clutching her handbag through the throng of strangers. Adrenalin pumped and she ran, her heart racing along with her feet, clouding her hearing, vision super sharp as she followed the bright red jacket into the unknown. A car slammed its breaks, narrowly missing her as she pursued him. She didn’t notice that her narrow escape had caused a pile up resulting in nine injured and two dead.
Mary
The name of the radio show was crosswalk, and it dealt with the life of a christian and the need for constant examination of self and the renewal of spirit. What I like most about the programme however, is the fact that it, the producers, never sought to engulf anyone with their own agenda.
I was walking on the street on a sunny day. it was hot, and I decided I had to get an ice cream. So I stopped at Wikie’s market and got a strawberry ice cream cone, then I saw one of my student riding a bike on the other side of the street. he waved at me and I couldn’t remember his name for a while. I waved back and said: “Hey! how is it going?”. Then, my ice cream fell on the sidewalk and I looked at it, a little sad. When I looked back at the other side of the road, I realized the boy I thought was my student, was just a poster on the wall. I took my cell phone and continued walking while whistling a song, hoping nobody had seen anything about what had just happened. the end.
lilu
Hundreds of people would swarm the intersection and flood the pavement, all at once. There had to be a way out, but the rat couldn’t see it, not from where he stood. Ah, yes. High grounds. He darted for the garbage bin looming in the distance.
She was just standing there in the middle of the crosswalk, staring off into space. The light had turned green but she has not moved an inch. Contemplating. Silent. Nothing.
Lei
You wouldn’t dare get up close and personal with the crosswalk if the traffic were against you. But then being crushed like a beetle matters little to the insane. I, however, am not irrational. Yet here I am: walking as the lights of on coming traffic flood over me, hoping that the person at the wheel is paying attention to traffic signals too. Technically, I’ve got 5 seconds left before the light changes. I’ll make it over with time to click my heels at the end of it, I will, I will, I will.
We’ve been standing here for twenty minutes, the lights flashing and my soul dropping through me to my feet. I’m still staring at him, and he’s looking across the street, as though nothing has happened. As though we’re going to cross the street at any moment now. But we’re not, because we’ve already crossed it. We crossed it when he said he didn’t love me anymore and he wanted a divorce. So here we are, at the crossroads, together, even though he’s already gone- he’s moved on, and I’m stuck, watching the lights blink out my despair.
Standing at the crosswalk, hesitant, waiting for the light to dictate my movements, waiting til it’s right. I could run. I could take a chance and trust my senses and go. I imagine that jolting first step off the curb and shudder.
Alicia Lewis
I stand by the crosswalk everyday; waiting for her. I search for her face among the crowd everyday. But she’s not there anymore.
Elsa sighed loudly, barely resisting the urge to honk her horn, as she waited not-so-patiently for the group of girls who, apparently, were unable to make it last twenty feet to the crosswalk before crossing the street.
I’m sure this isan American word! I would call it a pedestrian crossing? Or does it mean when you go for a walk when you are angry? Or maybe walking in a different direction to others. I like the sound of the last idea most because that’s what I like to do. Be different from others. Take the lead and navigate my own route.
Roger
I can’t look there is a baby walking on her own across the crosswalk, you’ve got to ask yourself where is her mother. But hey that’s modern day parenting these days. Freedom and all that crap. I do hope someone closer then me gets out soon to save her, before God takes her instead.
It’s dumb how there are so many laws that restrict us. Example 1: the crosswalk. We- as humans- have a specific place that we are allowed to cross a street. It’s crazy to think about how much we are controlled
I want to jaywalk with you. I want to hold your hand and hold my breath and run through traffic with you. I want to break every law in the world with you. I want to show you just how dangerous I can be.
Violet Glass
She holds the child’s hand and they cross carefully. “Look both ways,” she says, looking down, and the girl looks up into her face and nods solemnly. “Always look both ways,” the woman repeats, “because then you’ll be safe. The no one will hit you.” The girl looked down at the lines on the asphalt and thought carefully, then nodded again.
The crosswalk was slick and icy. I didn’t notice the ice until I was flat on my butt. The groceries must have flown six feet in the air. Despite the pain, I couldn’t stop laughing.
Sarah
Don’t use them. If I wanted lines to tell me what to do I want them to be from a poem. About sex. Or making love. I’m going to cross the street when I get the chance to, when cars aren’t flying by and the roads aren’t empty. That way I don’t have to halt them and make them watch me pretend to be walking on a piano across their street. The Beatles.
she crosses the room with a swagger. ‘limping?’ he snidely thinks. there is a certain appeal intrinsic to her glamour but the way she walks is a definite turn off. black widows don’t make the best of mates… but then again, being a man with a penchant for spiders is weird enough.
(this is me, but logged in :P )
Iris was on the opposite side of the crosswalk, fiddling with the small pin that glinted on the left side of her shirt collar. She waited for me to walk hurriedly toward her, avoiding a few pedestrians and one jerkwad behind the wheel of a semi who didn’t bother to read the Yield sign. When I got to her, I could see the worry pooling in her eyes.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, pulling her into my arms without hesitation. “I’m here. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Belinda Roddie
she walks across the room with a swagger. ‘limping?’ he snidely thinks. there is a certain appeal intrinsic to her glamour but the way she walks is a definite turn off. black widows don’t make the best of mates… but then again, being a man with a penchant for spiders is weird enough.
Neha Dharma
the old crosswalk was ever fickle.
somedays, it chirped
others its blinking light stuttered.
the old crosswalk was ignored.
it barely commanded the respect of the passing traffic.
to cross was to attempt walking on water
the old crosswalk was barely a crossing
but i always crossed
walk between the lines
stay wihin the path that
leads to places I’d rather not be
the road has an end
yet seems to go on forever
it’s not an angry walk
It’s a stroll down lanes of
life with contraint and
mother may I
Protean
She stood in the crosswalk, her ancient legs shuffling in place. I stared at her through the windshield. The sun was beaming me in the eye through her blue curls. Her huge sunglasses hid her eyes, but I could see her watching me from the corner. She smiled. I smiled and waited.
They stood on the edge of the crosswalk. Cars zoomed past, none of them showing the least sign of stopping. They stepped out slowly, cautiously looking both ways. Finally the cars began to slow and they could walk safely.
There is always that moment of hesitation before you step into a crosswalk of never being 100% if you’re really going to make it to the other side alive. It’s a small thrill to gamble your life for such little gain.
Monique Quistorff
Ohara pushed open the door of the policestation, then stopped in his tracks. While it was normally a quiet, trundling kind of place, today it was as hectic as the Shibuya Crosswalk. Ohara weaved his way up to the counter and asked if Detective Makita was around.
tonykeyesjapan
In Boston I would walk through the crosswalks behind Jenny’s and wait for people to linger on the corner. The next few streets had the most activity. There were seven bars and the Pentington Hotel. I kept walking back and forth across the walkways and kept my eyes on the theirs, just to see if they were watching. Cars didn’t stop. But people should. Either they’re aware or not. I only stop the dangerous drivers. You can see their eyes meet yours and the expression on their face. I prefer no uniform. They react in different ways but the ones that see you still know.
He swerved to avoid him the teenager boy who was crossing the street 10 feet noth of the crosswalk, he was walking in a diagonal line across the street. The boy stopped and shook his ass before he finished crossing. Tom thought to himself I should have hit the little twerp it would teach he to not play games in the street, but instead he swerved and hit a group of bushes
I kept walking. I wanted to distance myself from the rantings of the (former) friend who had stopped walking alongside me (both literally and metaphorically at this time). I didn’t need to deal with this bull.
That’s how we met. Along that street, in that time of the day when that sun dipped into someplace we’ve never known. You crossed my path, or maybe I crossed yours.
@After that, there wasn’t much that could be said. After all, he was annoyed and she was annoyed as they walked down the pavement to the crossing. Their walks were in synch and she tried to make it less so, she didn’t want to fall in pace with him so she speeded up and slowed down as he matched her. But they still ended up at the crossing together. She sighed. After all her attempts to lose him he was still there. He was smirking. Loving the fact that she, in her annoyance, had created this game to be more annoyed than him, this competitive game that spun around them like some kind of labyrinth of emotion. All their crap, all their stupid little childlike urges for winning were thrown up right there next to the pedestrian crossing. She went for the button, he went for the button. Their fingers touched.
Early that day they had been in bed together. First on the floor of the living room until her knees started to hurt and he got carpet burns on his arse. Then kissing on the stairs, kissing everywhere. Then finally in bed, though that always seemed strange to her when it was midday and it was ostensibly a place to sleep. He didn’t think about things like that in the midst of passion, but she did. And the annoyance had started there. Why did he always want to go to the bed? She could have stayed on the sofa but he avoided it, and she knew why. It was his precious sofa and there was no way he was going to defile it with their sex. Though he didn’t acknowledge this, it wasn’t a conscious decision, for him it did feel wrong to do it there. And so from the moment they had hit the carpet, a tension was there.
The thing about couples is that when that tension arrives, even if both parties see it, recognise it, hear it’s tone in the voice of their beloved. Even if the elephant trumpets in their faces, after a time they will ignore it. Because there is nothing worse than pointing it out.. Because that is when the argument will begin.
Cross walk, don’t cross me, just keep walking. Just keep moving, moving, our paths crossed but we must keep walking on the same secret road. We’re on two paths in the wood and we met in our secret, green, magic grove but now it’s time to split and I can still hear you through the trees, and I can still hear your breathing and your footsteps and maybe your heart still beating in my chest.
Two feet on the pavement,
one step above the crosswalk,
and across is the vision
of you, features highlighted by
bright sunlight;
your own golden glow
leave me breathless,
why don’t you?
Crosswalks. The invention in the hope to save lives. Every year, thousands of individuals are hit by vehicles on public roads while crossing, and there was an enormous incentive for the government to take action. And so they did. With the invention of the zebra striped paths.
The crosswalk is an odd invention. They’re always at intersections? No, they’re sometimes in the middle of the street. But I’ll never forget the time we got a ticket for jaywalking when we didn’t use the crosswalk only a few feet away. We went to court and it was dismissed but what a hassle that was. I still jaywalk!
heading for town. God how I hate running out of essentials. Passing the kids on the corner. Passing the basement flats with the smell
Things here were usually quiet, there was a charm to that, and everyday was the same, the crowd of kids would filter out of the school and swarm towards the same crossing day in and day out. Nothing bad ever happened there.
walking in the safe confines of a cross walk. living like there is something to fear outside of it. looking with the eyes,but allowing the mind to tell you this is the safest place to be. safety is ok, but not when you are sacrificing growth
A pelican or a zebra. Any kind of pedestrian crossing, where we walk across the road. Where it is safe to walk, or so we are told. Vehicles come at us. Some vehicles, the metal boxy ones, stop. Others, those on two wheels, sail past our startled faces, oblivious.
As she surveyed the busy road she had seconds to decide whether to use the crosswalk or to make a speedy dash for it. The thief ran clutching her handbag through the throng of strangers. Adrenalin pumped and she ran, her heart racing along with her feet, clouding her hearing, vision super sharp as she followed the bright red jacket into the unknown. A car slammed its breaks, narrowly missing her as she pursued him. She didn’t notice that her narrow escape had caused a pile up resulting in nine injured and two dead.
The name of the radio show was crosswalk, and it dealt with the life of a christian and the need for constant examination of self and the renewal of spirit. What I like most about the programme however, is the fact that it, the producers, never sought to engulf anyone with their own agenda.
I was walking on the street on a sunny day. it was hot, and I decided I had to get an ice cream. So I stopped at Wikie’s market and got a strawberry ice cream cone, then I saw one of my student riding a bike on the other side of the street. he waved at me and I couldn’t remember his name for a while. I waved back and said: “Hey! how is it going?”. Then, my ice cream fell on the sidewalk and I looked at it, a little sad. When I looked back at the other side of the road, I realized the boy I thought was my student, was just a poster on the wall. I took my cell phone and continued walking while whistling a song, hoping nobody had seen anything about what had just happened. the end.
Hundreds of people would swarm the intersection and flood the pavement, all at once. There had to be a way out, but the rat couldn’t see it, not from where he stood. Ah, yes. High grounds. He darted for the garbage bin looming in the distance.
She was just standing there in the middle of the crosswalk, staring off into space. The light had turned green but she has not moved an inch. Contemplating. Silent. Nothing.
You wouldn’t dare get up close and personal with the crosswalk if the traffic were against you. But then being crushed like a beetle matters little to the insane. I, however, am not irrational. Yet here I am: walking as the lights of on coming traffic flood over me, hoping that the person at the wheel is paying attention to traffic signals too. Technically, I’ve got 5 seconds left before the light changes. I’ll make it over with time to click my heels at the end of it, I will, I will, I will.
We’ve been standing here for twenty minutes, the lights flashing and my soul dropping through me to my feet. I’m still staring at him, and he’s looking across the street, as though nothing has happened. As though we’re going to cross the street at any moment now. But we’re not, because we’ve already crossed it. We crossed it when he said he didn’t love me anymore and he wanted a divorce. So here we are, at the crossroads, together, even though he’s already gone- he’s moved on, and I’m stuck, watching the lights blink out my despair.
Standing at the crosswalk, hesitant, waiting for the light to dictate my movements, waiting til it’s right. I could run. I could take a chance and trust my senses and go. I imagine that jolting first step off the curb and shudder.
I stand by the crosswalk everyday; waiting for her. I search for her face among the crowd everyday. But she’s not there anymore.
Elsa sighed loudly, barely resisting the urge to honk her horn, as she waited not-so-patiently for the group of girls who, apparently, were unable to make it last twenty feet to the crosswalk before crossing the street.
I’m sure this isan American word! I would call it a pedestrian crossing? Or does it mean when you go for a walk when you are angry? Or maybe walking in a different direction to others. I like the sound of the last idea most because that’s what I like to do. Be different from others. Take the lead and navigate my own route.
I can’t look there is a baby walking on her own across the crosswalk, you’ve got to ask yourself where is her mother. But hey that’s modern day parenting these days. Freedom and all that crap. I do hope someone closer then me gets out soon to save her, before God takes her instead.
It’s dumb how there are so many laws that restrict us. Example 1: the crosswalk. We- as humans- have a specific place that we are allowed to cross a street. It’s crazy to think about how much we are controlled
I want to jaywalk with you. I want to hold your hand and hold my breath and run through traffic with you. I want to break every law in the world with you. I want to show you just how dangerous I can be.
She holds the child’s hand and they cross carefully. “Look both ways,” she says, looking down, and the girl looks up into her face and nods solemnly. “Always look both ways,” the woman repeats, “because then you’ll be safe. The no one will hit you.” The girl looked down at the lines on the asphalt and thought carefully, then nodded again.
The crosswalk was slick and icy. I didn’t notice the ice until I was flat on my butt. The groceries must have flown six feet in the air. Despite the pain, I couldn’t stop laughing.
Don’t use them. If I wanted lines to tell me what to do I want them to be from a poem. About sex. Or making love. I’m going to cross the street when I get the chance to, when cars aren’t flying by and the roads aren’t empty. That way I don’t have to halt them and make them watch me pretend to be walking on a piano across their street. The Beatles.
there is charm in crossing the bridges of life
of living
or breathing in stale air that you know won’t last for more than a minute
of crossing from life to death
of dying
she crosses the room with a swagger. ‘limping?’ he snidely thinks. there is a certain appeal intrinsic to her glamour but the way she walks is a definite turn off. black widows don’t make the best of mates… but then again, being a man with a penchant for spiders is weird enough.
(this is me, but logged in :P )
Iris was on the opposite side of the crosswalk, fiddling with the small pin that glinted on the left side of her shirt collar. She waited for me to walk hurriedly toward her, avoiding a few pedestrians and one jerkwad behind the wheel of a semi who didn’t bother to read the Yield sign. When I got to her, I could see the worry pooling in her eyes.
“It’s okay,” I whispered, pulling her into my arms without hesitation. “I’m here. Everything’s going to be fine.”
she walks across the room with a swagger. ‘limping?’ he snidely thinks. there is a certain appeal intrinsic to her glamour but the way she walks is a definite turn off. black widows don’t make the best of mates… but then again, being a man with a penchant for spiders is weird enough.
the old crosswalk was ever fickle.
somedays, it chirped
others its blinking light stuttered.
the old crosswalk was ignored.
it barely commanded the respect of the passing traffic.
to cross was to attempt walking on water
the old crosswalk was barely a crossing
but i always crossed
it was the only way to reach
you
walk between the lines
stay wihin the path that
leads to places I’d rather not be
the road has an end
yet seems to go on forever
it’s not an angry walk
It’s a stroll down lanes of
life with contraint and
mother may I
She stood in the crosswalk, her ancient legs shuffling in place. I stared at her through the windshield. The sun was beaming me in the eye through her blue curls. Her huge sunglasses hid her eyes, but I could see her watching me from the corner. She smiled. I smiled and waited.
They stood on the edge of the crosswalk. Cars zoomed past, none of them showing the least sign of stopping. They stepped out slowly, cautiously looking both ways. Finally the cars began to slow and they could walk safely.
There is always that moment of hesitation before you step into a crosswalk of never being 100% if you’re really going to make it to the other side alive. It’s a small thrill to gamble your life for such little gain.
Ohara pushed open the door of the policestation, then stopped in his tracks. While it was normally a quiet, trundling kind of place, today it was as hectic as the Shibuya Crosswalk. Ohara weaved his way up to the counter and asked if Detective Makita was around.
In Boston I would walk through the crosswalks behind Jenny’s and wait for people to linger on the corner. The next few streets had the most activity. There were seven bars and the Pentington Hotel. I kept walking back and forth across the walkways and kept my eyes on the theirs, just to see if they were watching. Cars didn’t stop. But people should. Either they’re aware or not. I only stop the dangerous drivers. You can see their eyes meet yours and the expression on their face. I prefer no uniform. They react in different ways but the ones that see you still know.
He swerved to avoid him the teenager boy who was crossing the street 10 feet noth of the crosswalk, he was walking in a diagonal line across the street. The boy stopped and shook his ass before he finished crossing. Tom thought to himself I should have hit the little twerp it would teach he to not play games in the street, but instead he swerved and hit a group of bushes