As she fell into the mud, her friends all laughed at her and then her best friend, who she was staying with, called her dad to bring her a clean pair of pants. Her new nickname was “skid mark.”
The sun was exactly overhead, blazing with such intensity that I had to squint to look far. We were on our way to Jaipur in Rajasthan for a photo shoot when a flat tyre halted us in the middle of nowhere. I set out to explore the surroundings, not that there was much of variation from the arid, cracked landscape interceded by a few non-descript shrubs. But I had to get away from the constant whining and the starry tantrums of the models. My foray into fashion photography was a coincidence, more out of need and desperation than interest. I wandered towards a bunch of huts. They were built of mud and looked like they had just grown out of the land. They belonged there.
On the verandah of one the huts was a woman working on a potter’s wheel. Her skin was the colour of dull bronze, the earthy tint blending perfectly with the rustic landscape. She was dressed in the traditional Rajasthani attire, a royal blue lehenga with yellow trimmings, an orange blouse, and a red dupatta covering her head. The bright colours broke the monotony of the various hues of browns all around. Her waist length hair was plaited, pulled tightly away from the face, accentuating her angular face. Her feet tapped to an imaginary song, the bulky anklets producing a sweet tinkling sound in unison with the clanging of her glass bangles as she deftly moved her hands to shape the wet mud. Suddenly she became aware of me and quickly re-adjusted her dupatta to cover her head and most part of her face, the chunky silver jewellery clinked with her movement. She held an edge of her dupatta in between her teeth to hold it in place and resumed working.
It was beautiful to see a lump of wet mud turn into an exquisite vase under the expert guidance of her graceful fingers. Maybe my gaze was making her conscious, her kohl lined eyes kept darting towards me, wary. But I was taking in the whole setting; it was so real, so brimming with life unlike the artificial picture perfect exhibits we created for our photo shoots. The creases between her eyebrows eased, smoothening the bright red bindi in the middle of her forehead, a slight smile lit up her face; maybe she was enjoying the attention. I just stood there and stared and forgot to click.
Mud cakes the recesses of my shattered mind, covering up the cracks with dirt and selfishness. How strange, how far, how sad. This thing that was once human is now broken, now falling, now gone. There is little left.
Evie
I silence my mind and slow my breathing for meditation, but my mind is nothing but mud.
sometimes people dream about being buried, like in a coffin, but i never do, but i dream about dreaming about being buried. The mud is always cold and dark, and refreshing.
ajza
sticks between my toes, and holds me down below where everything is clear, yet nothing is defined. Spell me out in puddled sounds of joy.
Jsette
In the sprite of peace love and good will i will write a new thing about life.
in the middle of it all i know that i was in the right mindset of the idea. it did go wrong… horribly wrong. i wish that things could have been different but in the end it was the journey choices that was made that determined the direction that life ended me moving in… i wish that i know better from the beginning… in the end we all roll in the mud of life.
Don’t think, just jump,” Patrick goaded his little brother. “But it’s too big,” Matthew complained. “I’ll get my feet all muddy. “Are you a pirate or a wimp? ‘Cause only a wimp wouldn’t jump and we have treasure to find.” Patrick replied as he shook his feet to clear the mud off. “I guess I’m a pirate,” Patrick replied dubiously. He paced back a few steps, leaped and promptly landed squarely in the ditch with his feet stuck six inches in oogie red mud. “Mom is going to kill me,” he predicted.
He crawls across the field, up to his chin in the stinking, swelling mud. He did this for his life, for his family and for his country, and he is afraid of losing all three. He did not ask to be a man of war, did not care for the violence, or the gore, but his country, fiendish and proud, gave him no real choice in the matter. She requires constant protection.
the mud absorbed the clothing he was wearing until it became a crustacean on he body. How curious he thought.
Rachel Slavny
Is mud the first thing that comes up for everyone? I wonder? I wonder how many minds have been put to the word mud. Is mud the same for you? Is mud childhood and cattle and gumboots?
may
My face in the mud, your foot on my back. So this is what betrayal is like. I can see why you’ve acted this way. I’m sorry.
Tina
I remember watching Rugrats as a kid and seeing the babies playing in the mud and having so much fun. Even as a 5 year old boy I could not see the appeal in mud I’d messed with it a little, but it was pretty lame.
Greg
mud. slippy, sloshy, mud. Thats what I saw, on my first day on Cranberry hill. It was my first day , and I was on my way to farnmouth Grammar school over the Hill. Mud. I slipped and slid my way over the sloping mound, eager to get to the other side, see what my new school held for me. Little did I know that in too weeks, this would be the mud I’d be scrambling across to get away from my worst nightmare.
Rachel-Maria Moore
I looked around to see if anyone was there. When I saw that I was alone, I took off my shoes and squished my toes in the mud. Sometimes it’s fun to be three again even at my age.
it’s brown shit stinks good for pigs just three letters easy to spell easy to learn good first word for babies starts with m what if a baby calls mom mud instead of mom
daniel
mud is the slanderous remark or soil with mud or mire and a water logged soil or earth.
was stuck there.
in knee deep mud
while trecking threw the bushes.
trying to locate the rest of the party.
was too late
when i discovered i was covered in leaches :(
K.F
For I was tarnished, filthy and smudged with the mud of my intentions. It was the saddest place to be and in that place I was alone, in the most innocent sense of the word.
We trudged through, not knowing what lied ahead. We carried our fire arms above our heads to make sure they still worked once we got there. I just fucking wish I knew ‘where’ was. They don’t tell you shit in the army.
The trees were alive as Adam ran through the woods, gasping for air. He could hear the creatures chasing after him vigorously, but he dared not stop. He fell to the ground and into the mud, feeling the liquid dirt permeate into his clothes like a disease.
Dirty, stained, I’ve fallen again. Would someone help me up..? Maybe just once this time. Wait, what- who is it?
Oh it’s you..
Thank God.
I missed you so…
<3
She was mowed down by the carriage, left there in the mud of the ditch. I watched her heaving chest, blood spewing from God knows where; I watched her die.
Pies. everywhere. Delicious Delicious :D
So great I love pie very much but I do not like mud its just kinda gross…. really gross actually just all the dirt contaminating that water… Ewwwwww.
“Ugh”, Terry pulled her foot up from the muck. She signed up for the race to help a friend who had cancer but she didn’t expect this. Still it was a fun departure from the usual 5k race at her local park. Putting her hand down to steady herself, she touched something hard. The gun was cold and shocking and she looked around to see who was watching. No one was around and she flung the gun toward the creek. “I just hope that nobody else picks it up anytime soon.”
Michelle
Gooey. Sticky. Adults hate it when children play with it but honestly, old people love playing with it.
Deep knee in thick, nightmare;she thinks. Mud, muck her brain and thought process is consumed with. Her tears are now long gone, yet the rips and holes in her heart will remain forver, intact to her wounded pride. Never, did she ever think that rock bottom was this far away from reality. Drowning in the dark is what was happening, as this infuriating “mud” filled her up.
Halee
I fell on the ground in the pouring rain, muddied and defeated. I looked to the crying, gray sky as if to ask whoever was causing it to rain, “Why? Why me?”
I’m stuck. Completely fucking stuck. Stupid bitch… why did I fall for her again? Oh, yeah, the nice tits and sweet looking face. Well fuck her. Fuck her little viral like laugh every time I showed her one of my pieces.
Mud is a very dirty and brown substance. It is so gross sometimes, but other times it can be very useful! You can exfoliate your skin with it or even fertilize your plants.
People tend to associate mud with filth. But they aren’t the same thing. Mud is what you play with when you’re a little kid in the backyard. It isn’t the best toy in the world but leaves so much to the imagination.
so when I was little I used to love playing in the mud. I wanted to do this thing called Slopfest where it’s a whole puddlemess of mud and you play in it but then I started worrying about what I would wear that I wouldn’t care getting dirty and got flustered and then found out that it was only for high school kids anyway.
how can it be dirty
when it feels so good
sully your skin
and let mud in
ancient soil. between the toes. said instead of truth. truthful.
As she fell into the mud, her friends all laughed at her and then her best friend, who she was staying with, called her dad to bring her a clean pair of pants. Her new nickname was “skid mark.”
The sun was exactly overhead, blazing with such intensity that I had to squint to look far. We were on our way to Jaipur in Rajasthan for a photo shoot when a flat tyre halted us in the middle of nowhere. I set out to explore the surroundings, not that there was much of variation from the arid, cracked landscape interceded by a few non-descript shrubs. But I had to get away from the constant whining and the starry tantrums of the models. My foray into fashion photography was a coincidence, more out of need and desperation than interest. I wandered towards a bunch of huts. They were built of mud and looked like they had just grown out of the land. They belonged there.
On the verandah of one the huts was a woman working on a potter’s wheel. Her skin was the colour of dull bronze, the earthy tint blending perfectly with the rustic landscape. She was dressed in the traditional Rajasthani attire, a royal blue lehenga with yellow trimmings, an orange blouse, and a red dupatta covering her head. The bright colours broke the monotony of the various hues of browns all around. Her waist length hair was plaited, pulled tightly away from the face, accentuating her angular face. Her feet tapped to an imaginary song, the bulky anklets producing a sweet tinkling sound in unison with the clanging of her glass bangles as she deftly moved her hands to shape the wet mud. Suddenly she became aware of me and quickly re-adjusted her dupatta to cover her head and most part of her face, the chunky silver jewellery clinked with her movement. She held an edge of her dupatta in between her teeth to hold it in place and resumed working.
It was beautiful to see a lump of wet mud turn into an exquisite vase under the expert guidance of her graceful fingers. Maybe my gaze was making her conscious, her kohl lined eyes kept darting towards me, wary. But I was taking in the whole setting; it was so real, so brimming with life unlike the artificial picture perfect exhibits we created for our photo shoots. The creases between her eyebrows eased, smoothening the bright red bindi in the middle of her forehead, a slight smile lit up her face; maybe she was enjoying the attention. I just stood there and stared and forgot to click.
Mud cakes the recesses of my shattered mind, covering up the cracks with dirt and selfishness. How strange, how far, how sad. This thing that was once human is now broken, now falling, now gone. There is little left.
I silence my mind and slow my breathing for meditation, but my mind is nothing but mud.
sometimes people dream about being buried, like in a coffin, but i never do, but i dream about dreaming about being buried. The mud is always cold and dark, and refreshing.
sticks between my toes, and holds me down below where everything is clear, yet nothing is defined. Spell me out in puddled sounds of joy.
In the sprite of peace love and good will i will write a new thing about life.
in the middle of it all i know that i was in the right mindset of the idea. it did go wrong… horribly wrong. i wish that things could have been different but in the end it was the journey choices that was made that determined the direction that life ended me moving in… i wish that i know better from the beginning… in the end we all roll in the mud of life.
Don’t think, just jump,” Patrick goaded his little brother. “But it’s too big,” Matthew complained. “I’ll get my feet all muddy. “Are you a pirate or a wimp? ‘Cause only a wimp wouldn’t jump and we have treasure to find.” Patrick replied as he shook his feet to clear the mud off. “I guess I’m a pirate,” Patrick replied dubiously. He paced back a few steps, leaped and promptly landed squarely in the ditch with his feet stuck six inches in oogie red mud. “Mom is going to kill me,” he predicted.
Mud-crusted faces are surronding me with a deep seductive glare in their eyes, trying to pull me back, to cover me with filthy oblivion…
He crawls across the field, up to his chin in the stinking, swelling mud. He did this for his life, for his family and for his country, and he is afraid of losing all three. He did not ask to be a man of war, did not care for the violence, or the gore, but his country, fiendish and proud, gave him no real choice in the matter. She requires constant protection.
the mud absorbed the clothing he was wearing until it became a crustacean on he body. How curious he thought.
Is mud the first thing that comes up for everyone? I wonder? I wonder how many minds have been put to the word mud. Is mud the same for you? Is mud childhood and cattle and gumboots?
My face in the mud, your foot on my back. So this is what betrayal is like. I can see why you’ve acted this way. I’m sorry.
I remember watching Rugrats as a kid and seeing the babies playing in the mud and having so much fun. Even as a 5 year old boy I could not see the appeal in mud I’d messed with it a little, but it was pretty lame.
mud. slippy, sloshy, mud. Thats what I saw, on my first day on Cranberry hill. It was my first day , and I was on my way to farnmouth Grammar school over the Hill. Mud. I slipped and slid my way over the sloping mound, eager to get to the other side, see what my new school held for me. Little did I know that in too weeks, this would be the mud I’d be scrambling across to get away from my worst nightmare.
I looked around to see if anyone was there. When I saw that I was alone, I took off my shoes and squished my toes in the mud. Sometimes it’s fun to be three again even at my age.
The mud felt cold and fresh under my toes. “There’s nothing better than walking barefoot after a long rain to cool one’s soul” she said.
it’s brown shit stinks good for pigs just three letters easy to spell easy to learn good first word for babies starts with m what if a baby calls mom mud instead of mom
mud is the slanderous remark or soil with mud or mire and a water logged soil or earth.
was stuck there.
in knee deep mud
while trecking threw the bushes.
trying to locate the rest of the party.
was too late
when i discovered i was covered in leaches :(
For I was tarnished, filthy and smudged with the mud of my intentions. It was the saddest place to be and in that place I was alone, in the most innocent sense of the word.
all the dirtiness
makes me feel clean
We trudged through, not knowing what lied ahead. We carried our fire arms above our heads to make sure they still worked once we got there. I just fucking wish I knew ‘where’ was. They don’t tell you shit in the army.
I am wallowing in the mud of my mind. Mind mud: thick mire of indecisive sludge.
The trees were alive as Adam ran through the woods, gasping for air. He could hear the creatures chasing after him vigorously, but he dared not stop. He fell to the ground and into the mud, feeling the liquid dirt permeate into his clothes like a disease.
Dirty, stained, I’ve fallen again. Would someone help me up..? Maybe just once this time. Wait, what- who is it?
Oh it’s you..
Thank God.
I missed you so…
<3
She was mowed down by the carriage, left there in the mud of the ditch. I watched her heaving chest, blood spewing from God knows where; I watched her die.
Pies. everywhere. Delicious Delicious :D
So great I love pie very much but I do not like mud its just kinda gross…. really gross actually just all the dirt contaminating that water… Ewwwwww.
Puddle, wade, rain, umbrella, kisses, dancing, chocolate-ish, cold.
“Ugh”, Terry pulled her foot up from the muck. She signed up for the race to help a friend who had cancer but she didn’t expect this. Still it was a fun departure from the usual 5k race at her local park. Putting her hand down to steady herself, she touched something hard. The gun was cold and shocking and she looked around to see who was watching. No one was around and she flung the gun toward the creek. “I just hope that nobody else picks it up anytime soon.”
Gooey. Sticky. Adults hate it when children play with it but honestly, old people love playing with it.
Deep knee in thick, nightmare;she thinks. Mud, muck her brain and thought process is consumed with. Her tears are now long gone, yet the rips and holes in her heart will remain forver, intact to her wounded pride. Never, did she ever think that rock bottom was this far away from reality. Drowning in the dark is what was happening, as this infuriating “mud” filled her up.
I fell on the ground in the pouring rain, muddied and defeated. I looked to the crying, gray sky as if to ask whoever was causing it to rain, “Why? Why me?”
I’m stuck. Completely fucking stuck. Stupid bitch… why did I fall for her again? Oh, yeah, the nice tits and sweet looking face. Well fuck her. Fuck her little viral like laugh every time I showed her one of my pieces.
Mud is a very dirty and brown substance. It is so gross sometimes, but other times it can be very useful! You can exfoliate your skin with it or even fertilize your plants.
People tend to associate mud with filth. But they aren’t the same thing. Mud is what you play with when you’re a little kid in the backyard. It isn’t the best toy in the world but leaves so much to the imagination.
MUD!!!!
Gah. I love you, mud. You’re fun. You’re silly. And you don’t mind getting down and dirty.
In fact, you are dirty. *suggestive expression*
It’s wonderful to be a teen-aged girl in mud.
so when I was little I used to love playing in the mud. I wanted to do this thing called Slopfest where it’s a whole puddlemess of mud and you play in it but then I started worrying about what I would wear that I wouldn’t care getting dirty and got flustered and then found out that it was only for high school kids anyway.