Project from Last Sem
I got my ComDI (Communicating Design Ideas) portfolio back. I suppose the lecturer left it in the studio and never bothered to tell us about it. So I didn't know about the portfolio that was sitting in the studio waiting for me to retrieve it. AND SOME GODDAMNED FUCKING YEAR ONE STOLE MY FILE. Okie, I'm assuming it's a year one because I'm biased.
Anyways. I was supposed to include 4 artefacts of my choice in this essay. See if you can spot them. :/
Walking the deserted streets, I was aware of the quietness and stillness of a town that just hours ago hummed with excitement and activity. The familiar surroundings seemed alien to me. Rows of streetlamp illuminated the walk ahead, its light spilling softly onto the ground, lifting the sense of loneliness just a little. A cold wind was blowing, chilling me. I shivered, and pulled my jacket closer, zipping it up to my chin, trying to conserve some of my body warmth. The sound of the zipper was loud, louder than I had expected. I gained some comfort in the sound - it distracted me from the disturbing silence.
Shadows shifted behind me, long and menacing. I stopped to look back, but all I saw was an empty street, with bits of rubbish dotting the landscape. My mind was racing with paranoia, playing tricks on my vision and sharpening my sense of hearing. A sudden crash jolted me. A cat climbed out of the toppled rubbish bin, going to the next one in search of food. The foul stench of rotting food was carried with the wind. It seemed to match the image of the town.
I walked past the shops, looking at the mannequins in the displays. They were disfigured, with missing limbs and broken noses hastily pasted back on with scotch tape. Their blank eyes seemed to tell of a weariness, of glory days long past and things they have stood silent witness to. Under their vacant gaze, I hastened my pace, my boots striking a jogging rhythm on the sidewalk. I had a niggling sense that someone was watching me from behind. To take my mind off my paranoia, I started imagining the street as it was just now.
The bustling street filled with the voices of women and children came to mind. I could hear a popular jazz tune playing from the jukebox in the cafe and the smell of hawkers selling their food by the roadside wafted in the air. Unconsciously, I reached down and opened the pocket on my jacket. The harsh sound of velcro tearing dissipated the images and brought me back to the empty streets that lie ahead. I reached into my pocket and fingered the train ticket that was inside.
After long minutes of brisk walking, the train station came into view. The old structure was dilapidated, hardly more than a shack supported by rotting wooden beams. A damp, musty smell pervaded the place, bringing impressions of memories long past. I walked up the platform and sat down on the creaky, wooden bench. The only other people on the platform were either sitting down, waiting for the train to come, or reading from the flickering kerosene lamps. I glanced at the clock, 12.15am. Five minutes before the train arrives. I looked around, but found nothing interesting in the peeling paints and rotting wood. A sharp pain pierced my senses. I looked down and found a splinter in my thumb. I pulled it out cautiously, wincing at the pain that little silver of wood caused me. There was a dark spot of blood in the cut the splinter made. I cursed silently under my breath and looked for a tissue to blot it away.
An old lady sitting beside me offered a plaster. I took it and thanked her. I could smell her perfume, a powdery scent that reminded me of my own grandmother. Her wrinkled and age-spotted face was kind, and her salt-and-pepper hair was hidden under a small hat. I wondered where she was going, but did not ask her. I didn't think it was appropriate.
A whistling sound alerted me to the approching arrival of the train. I could see the white smoke against the midnight sky. It slowed down when nearing the station and the sound of metal-grinding screech resonated in the silent night. A loud hiss followed the halt of the engine. I boarded the train and sat down at my seat near the window. The train started again and the
scenery started rolling past in a dizzying blur. I looked out the window to see myself leaving the town behind. With hardly another backward glance, I left my past and started walking towards my future.
Anyways. I was supposed to include 4 artefacts of my choice in this essay. See if you can spot them. :/
Walking the deserted streets, I was aware of the quietness and stillness of a town that just hours ago hummed with excitement and activity. The familiar surroundings seemed alien to me. Rows of streetlamp illuminated the walk ahead, its light spilling softly onto the ground, lifting the sense of loneliness just a little. A cold wind was blowing, chilling me. I shivered, and pulled my jacket closer, zipping it up to my chin, trying to conserve some of my body warmth. The sound of the zipper was loud, louder than I had expected. I gained some comfort in the sound - it distracted me from the disturbing silence.
Shadows shifted behind me, long and menacing. I stopped to look back, but all I saw was an empty street, with bits of rubbish dotting the landscape. My mind was racing with paranoia, playing tricks on my vision and sharpening my sense of hearing. A sudden crash jolted me. A cat climbed out of the toppled rubbish bin, going to the next one in search of food. The foul stench of rotting food was carried with the wind. It seemed to match the image of the town.
I walked past the shops, looking at the mannequins in the displays. They were disfigured, with missing limbs and broken noses hastily pasted back on with scotch tape. Their blank eyes seemed to tell of a weariness, of glory days long past and things they have stood silent witness to. Under their vacant gaze, I hastened my pace, my boots striking a jogging rhythm on the sidewalk. I had a niggling sense that someone was watching me from behind. To take my mind off my paranoia, I started imagining the street as it was just now.
The bustling street filled with the voices of women and children came to mind. I could hear a popular jazz tune playing from the jukebox in the cafe and the smell of hawkers selling their food by the roadside wafted in the air. Unconsciously, I reached down and opened the pocket on my jacket. The harsh sound of velcro tearing dissipated the images and brought me back to the empty streets that lie ahead. I reached into my pocket and fingered the train ticket that was inside.
After long minutes of brisk walking, the train station came into view. The old structure was dilapidated, hardly more than a shack supported by rotting wooden beams. A damp, musty smell pervaded the place, bringing impressions of memories long past. I walked up the platform and sat down on the creaky, wooden bench. The only other people on the platform were either sitting down, waiting for the train to come, or reading from the flickering kerosene lamps. I glanced at the clock, 12.15am. Five minutes before the train arrives. I looked around, but found nothing interesting in the peeling paints and rotting wood. A sharp pain pierced my senses. I looked down and found a splinter in my thumb. I pulled it out cautiously, wincing at the pain that little silver of wood caused me. There was a dark spot of blood in the cut the splinter made. I cursed silently under my breath and looked for a tissue to blot it away.
An old lady sitting beside me offered a plaster. I took it and thanked her. I could smell her perfume, a powdery scent that reminded me of my own grandmother. Her wrinkled and age-spotted face was kind, and her salt-and-pepper hair was hidden under a small hat. I wondered where she was going, but did not ask her. I didn't think it was appropriate.
A whistling sound alerted me to the approching arrival of the train. I could see the white smoke against the midnight sky. It slowed down when nearing the station and the sound of metal-grinding screech resonated in the silent night. A loud hiss followed the halt of the engine. I boarded the train and sat down at my seat near the window. The train started again and the
scenery started rolling past in a dizzying blur. I looked out the window to see myself leaving the town behind. With hardly another backward glance, I left my past and started walking towards my future.
posted by AG at 7/18/2005 08:54:00 PM
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