Is it time for the Master of Arts to hand over to the younger generation? Maybe, if the creaking is anything to go by. My poor back aches at the thought. Read more of this fun entry by Jemima.
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
It was the best because he had a job, for which he might even get paid. Having a job was better than nothing. Nothing equalled painful, hungry, disgusting, and sometimes even dangerous.
It was the worst of times because he was lying on his back on flat wooden boards, twenty feet in the air, painting.
Do you think that was a good job? Lying on your back, hardly able to shift position, trying to do intricate details in the most marvellous impression of gaily dancing women surrounded by cavorting dogs … and the paint is dripping into your eyes, into your hair, up your nostrils and into worse parts.
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Ceiling | #writephoto Flash Fiction – Jemima Pett
For visually challenged writers, the image shows a white plaster ceiling with beautiful artistic carvings in the centre is a painting featuring angels and the odd animal.
If you’d like to join in with this prompt, please see the link below:
Much Love
KL
