the instrument was strange looking. She turned it over, trying to figure out how to turn it on so she could see what it did. She put it back down again, then a light appeared, making an image on the wall behind her.
Chanpheng
She looked down at her untied lace. It was moistly muddy from the puddle she’d jumped in so joyously a few minutes ago. She looked back to see how far she’d come, but it was getting dark and the beginning of the path was no longer visible. It slowly started to rain again and she raised her umbrella once more, giving a relaxed sigh. The umbrella was sky blue and it had become one of her favourite things. Whilst she loved the damp weather, it had become an instrument of shelter like an old friend who always understands.
All that comes to mind beside musical instruments is that line “lord make me an instrument of your peace.” I suppose surgeons use instruments too, but I think about that prayer (?) sometimes!
The tool of art, of making memories, creating waves that soothe and ignite, handled by a master or a child’s clumsy fingers
the instrument was strange looking. She turned it over, trying to figure out how to turn it on so she could see what it did. She put it back down again, then a light appeared, making an image on the wall behind her.
She looked down at her untied lace. It was moistly muddy from the puddle she’d jumped in so joyously a few minutes ago. She looked back to see how far she’d come, but it was getting dark and the beginning of the path was no longer visible. It slowly started to rain again and she raised her umbrella once more, giving a relaxed sigh. The umbrella was sky blue and it had become one of her favourite things. Whilst she loved the damp weather, it had become an instrument of shelter like an old friend who always understands.
All that comes to mind beside musical instruments is that line “lord make me an instrument of your peace.” I suppose surgeons use instruments too, but I think about that prayer (?) sometimes!