#1
“Good airs for the masses
and Atacama Sundae for the soul.”
A South American – Continental –
private joke. With bacon on the side.
We shared it with intent-full eye chat
when we arrived at the yellow-brown town
of the northern desert.

There was something in the air that night,
and it wasn’t only the cheerful Abba tune, playing
from a soft lit window, in an alley not even
important enough to be named.

I asked my host how people knew
where to send their letters to,
if they did not know what address to put down.
He just smiled and replied: “Solo el cartero
necesita saber a donde un carta llege. Y no soy un cartero.”

The skies were full of stars, so much that
they took the form of clusters of light.
Sitting on the back porch of the small guest house
I was compelled to put down, both to words and paper,
how magical this place was.

In the heart of the city, people do still feel lonely.
I still felt alone.
But here, loneliness was not a burden; it was freedom.
Freedom from feeling inadequate
for the company of others.
Here there are no others.

I spent the rest of the night
writing a letter to myself,
and just as the sun rose above the flattened horizon –
I put the pages gently into an empty envelope,
took a pen and marked it with my name, and also:
“Buenos Aires”. I didn’t add another word.

A few hours into the morning and we left,
only stopping for a moment at the local post office.

I hoped I’d find this letter again,
when I arrived at good airs.
This is not a pipe
#2
Another honest emotional piece, again loved the tone and soft way the story is told, which is a great story at that.
Nothing much more to say. Great.
Filth, pure filth... That's what you are.
#3
I too enjoyed the softness of this, and just thought I'd post as I feel this deserves more attention.
#5
“Good airs for the masses
and Atacama Sundae for the soul.”
A South American – Continental –
private joke. With bacon on the side.
We shared it with intent-full eye chat
when we arrived at the yellow-brown town
of the northern desert.

Certain things can be read and digested with one
glance, attracting the eye in such a way that it would
seem the left-to-right, up-to-down motion were the
eye's natural course. This was one of those things.



There was something in the air that night,
and it wasn’t only the cheerful Abba tune, playing
from a soft lit window, in an ally that wasn’t even
important enough to be named.

The last part after the comma didn't show the
same sensitivity that the rest has so far. The thought
is a keeper, but I believe you can do more with the wording.

I asked my host how people knew
where to send their letters to,
if they did not know what address to put down.
Likewise, I wasn't able to appreciate this line as much
due to the lack of delicate word choice/arrangement.

He just smiled and replied: “Solo el cartero
necesita saber a donde un carta llege. Y soy no un cartero.”

A fellow Spanish scholar? This is cool. Only one thing;
no should come before soy.


The skies were full of stars, so much that
they took the form of clusters of light.
I was expecting more from this line, I don't like
the word clusters.

Sitting on the back porch of the small guesthouse *guest house
I was compelled to put down, both to words and paper,
how magical this place was.

In the heart of the city, people do still feel lonely.
I still felt alone.
But here, loneliness was not a burden; it was freedom.
Freedom from feeling inadequate
for the company of others.
Here there are no others.

I loved this, I can relate to the feeling.

I spent the rest of the night
writing a letter to myself,
and just as the sun rose above the flattened horizon –
I put the pages gently into an empty envelope,
took a pen and marked it with my name, and also:
“Buenos Aires”. I didn’t add another word.

This last part was very... refreshing is the only word that comes to
mind, I don't think I've ever seen someone use and also before.


A few hours into the morning and we left,
only stopping for a moment at the local post office.

I hoped I’d find this letter again,
when I arrived at good airs.


This piece was incredible, so I of course had to resort to nitpicking for the sake of a lengthy-looking crit (line breaks also help). Before I read it I was somewhat tired, and now I feel invigorated. Nothing more to say. Bravo.
On the eight day we spoke back...

let there be sound.
#6
I'll comment on this once it can actually reach my brain (when I don't have a cold and a hell of a headache). I'm admittedly almost definitely going to love anything about Latin America. Add a great writer to it and this is the first thing I'll get back to . This is just a reminder to myself.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
#7
wotw.

i'm battling myself to actually critique this, because if i did, it would just be nitpicking; the exact thing this piece doesn't need.
so, if i feel absolutely possessed to come back and try and fortify this with some useless rambled nonsense, i'll edit my bullshit right in. cool?

"this is exceptional," says my copout fiddle.
There's a road that leads to the end of all suffering. You should take it.


- Jericho Caine


secret, aaaaagent maaan.
secret, aaaaagent maaan.
#8
“Good airs for the masses
and Atacama Sundae for the soul.”
A South American – Continental –
private joke. With bacon on the side.
We shared it with intent-full eye chat
when we arrived at the yellow-brown town
of the northern desert.

Gives me a good picture...Sittin' down at a table by a beach in South America

There was something in the air that night,
and it wasn’t only the cheerful Abba tune, playing
from a soft lit window, in an ally not even
important enough to be named.

This gives off a nice mellow tone

I asked my host how people knew
where to send their letters to,
if they did not know what address to put down.
He just smiled and replied: “Solo el cartero
necesita saber a donde un carta llege. Y no soy un cartero.”

I have no idea what was just said in Spanish But I admit nice diversity, and adds culture to the story

The skies were full of stars, so much that
they took the form of clusters of light.
Sitting on the back porch of the small guest house
I was compelled to put down, both to words and paper,
how magical this place was.

Well put

In the heart of the city, people do still feel lonely.
I still felt alone.
But here, loneliness was not a burden; it was freedom.
Freedom from feeling inadequate
for the company of others.
Here there are no others.

I can relate, but I'm not a big city person

I spent the rest of the night
writing a letter to myself,
and just as the sun rose above the flattened horizon –
I put the pages gently into an empty envelope,
took a pen and marked it with my name, and also:
“Buenos Aires”. I didn’t add another word.

Adds to the beauty of the night

A few hours into the morning and we left,
only stopping for a moment at the local post office.

I hoped I’d find this letter again,
when I arrived at good airs.

Nice ending


Overall, it's a good piece...I couldn't really give it a crit
Vivamus mea Lesbia, atque amemus,
rumoresque senum seueriorum
omnes unius aestimemus assis!
#9
Thank you all guys. Billyjson, I've altered some of the wording according to things you suggested, thank you so much.

I'm really fluttering around at the moment, so please don't be shy to poke me even in PM about a piece you would like me to look at for a return critique.

I'll also say that there may be more pieces coming in this series. I hope they would all receive such good words.

Thanks again.
This is not a pipe
#10
I might prefer it if the description of the stars was after the description of the place, because phrasing it that way round made me picture it weirdly. Also maybe if 'I didn't add another word' was after a line break. Maybe not. I'm just trying to find something. This really was wonderful . I'd like to read more so if you're thinking of making this a series I'm definitely looking forward to reading the other pieces in it.
There's only one thing we can do to thwart the plot of these albino shape-shifting lizard BITCHES!
#12
This was a highly dizzying and intoxicating piece.

Fantastic, really.

That's all I have to say.
Poor advice.
#13
one never really learns from a piece unless someone pisses on it a bit.
i suppose i'll have to be the one to do that here.

i'm not a big fan of this style of writing.
no fault of yours.
but unlike the previous,
this one never drew me in.
i didn't feel the immersion i experienced with Trails.

i dunno if it was a typo or just a variant,
but ally stood out. i would have expected alley.

i thought this was the weakest part:
I was compelled to put down, both to words and paper,
how magical this place was.

compelled was solid.
but put down was weak.
maybe capture or something similar?
just throw the second line in the bin.
surely you can do something more majestic
in a generalization of your awe.


sorry i wasn't more help on this one.
Meadows
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