An exercise in Creative Vision

This post is entirely about me attempting to see pictures in my mind more clearly.


Close up: a yellow and black bee resting on the tip of a long stalk, adorned with a small white flower, bobbing in the wind. The dark green foliage behind it is out of focus. We hear a slight intermittent buzz, letting us know that some of his friends are nearby, on the same gustatorial hunt. I can see nothing except that bee on the end of that stalk crawling around attempting to get the last of the nectar.


A crowded office bullpen, consisting of 13 cubicles (6 in the center, and 4 up the left wall and 3 on the north wall before the wide hallway corner). Phones are ringing, drowning out the chatter and the specifics of what the bosses are yelling to their secretaries, sitting at their desks outside their bosses doors. Suited Men stride with purpose across the room, back and forth from a cubical to one of the 7 offices. Women with tight updo’s and modest but sexy pencil skirts, type away at their desks, hiding behind their black dell computer monitors and thick rimmed glasses. The Boss, a short well-built man in his early 30’s stalks through the office, brow furrowed in concentration, eyes peering through people, hands tightly clasped behind his back. You can imagine him chomping on a cigar, with a glass of whisky in-hand in his off hours. He is wearing a smart charcoal 2-button, notched lapel suite (no pleats), and a black belt with black glossy squared shoes. For an instant the hum lowers as everyone surreptitiously watches him prowl, hoping not to be noticed by his glaring attentions. His door quietly shuts, and the collective breath is released. The fervor resumes an even higher pitch. One of the Senior VP’s leaves his office and knocks friendlily on the door, ignoring The Boss’s assistant. A delivery man comes, and one of the cubical drones drearily scribbles a semblance of his name to receive the tower of packages. Lunch will never come.


Profile: The extreme closeup of a red tricycle’s white-walled wheel. A 4 year old boy with long sandy brown hair, in bowl-cut proudly sits atop his mighty steed. His blue jean overalls reveal a blue yellow red and white horizontally striped. Whir whir whir, the wheel spins pedaled by this indefatigable child. He knows not where his mount will take him, but he anticipates a grand adventure in the warm summer day. A small jackson terrier chases after, nipping at his rear wheel, while a dozing orange tabby cat quickly startles and scampers out of the incoming missile. A small cumulous cloud glides across the sun, just for an instant. What’s that sound? Behind him a towering monstrosity yells his name, ordering him to return! He glances back, and with a mischievous grin he pedals faster. She takes long lumbering steps first slowly, but building up steam she whisks him off of the trike, and throwing him over one arm swats him on the rear. She grabs the trike by one of the handlebars, and drags him back up the driveway.


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