This Bitter Earth

I have a new Sunday ritual: I get up, go out, and freewrite for 10 minutes. I do this to get out of the house, to spark some life into what has become a rather dull existence, and to re-develop some creative practices to keep the juices flowing offline. Last Sunday, I ventured into the gray, wet Sunday morning to post up in a classic diner with a latte and a corned beef biscuit. Today, I thought I’d go to the lake, but decided on the pond at the Cleveland Museum of Art instead.

Like last Sunday, I plugged my ears with the sound of Dinah Washington’s “This Bitter Earth” (a song preferred by the character in my head these days), and got to work.

This spot was definitely preferable to a formica table in a diner.
…And I caught a couple getting married in a quiet Sunday morning ceremony…
…Then I walked the courtyard in front of the museum. I’ve been coming here for years and only recently realized that the statues surrounding the fountain are a sundial with statues of the zodiac marking the hours. I stopped here in honor of Cancer season…
…And of course, paid homage to the Leo statue in honor of my rising sign (and the sun moving into Leo this week).
Finally, I took a shitty selfie overlooking the pond, which I used as an excuse to finally use one of VSCO’s new infrared filters.

As I walked around the pond, I kept Dinah on repeat.

This bitter earth might not be so bitter after all…

Maybe I needed to hear that as much as my character does.

Published by

a girl named rob

I used to be "skinny black girl." I'm now a slender woman on the other side of 35 with no new moniker who is not quite interested in writing under her given name. Still writing my life, a day (or some months) at a time. Also, still black.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s