Tuesday, February 21, 2012

Timed Writing: 2/18/2012


Time: 10 minutes
Source Photo: Walking in Marrakech by Marco Garrincha

Watching it from a hundred feet away, I had to remind myself that the walker was a full-sized human and not a Jawa. The peaked hood and shapeless black cloak, set against the ruddy sandstone backdrop, woke the Star Wars meme that had been rattling around in my head since I was a small child.

A rumbling of machinery clatter filled my ears and I half expected a sandcrawler to roll, lumbering slow, over the sandy dune crest behind me. It was, of course, the armored cavalry division that was supporting my efforts and that was supposed to have remained well back while I established contact.

The metallic cacophony elicited no reaction from the figure -- my could-be Jawa. He -- or she, for all I knew -- maintained the meditative posture and the shambling, almost gliding gate, unmolested by either the noise or the rubble underfoot. The latter was of particular note, given that the rough terrain would have efficiently impeded myself or any other similarly unpracticed traveler. R2D2 would not have been able to roll so smoothly here as he had across the iconic movie set.


(about my timed writing exercises)


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