sir-study-alot
Member
- Joined
- Jul 21, 2009
- Messages
- 264
- Gender
- Male
- HSC
- 2009
Hi Guys , this is my creative below . i need to make it more complex , i was thinking about a whites perspective between the dotted lines what do you think ? . if so how do you think i could do it ? . do i ruin the fluancy and make it straight to the point . any ideas please?
Shadows lengthen as the sun descends casting an eerie glow over the land. The sky ablaze with colour, fiery orange and searing reds interlaced with sky blues and pure milky whites. Fading to purple and then lifeless black. We lie on the earth and time fades to nothing more than a distance memory. Stars becoming visible, as they slowly grow brighter our cultural stories are revealed. Our guide to the past, the future and where we belong.
Our reverie in sleep is broken hours later by the distinct sound of screeching seagulls and the illuminating rays of light. The sun continues its battle to shine through the clouds. The ocean forces its mass up onto the shoreline. Seemingly pulsating, it swiftly retracts back into the unknowable mysteries it holds. Our appreciation of the natural beauties can be attributed to our cultural ideals. The land is our mother encouraging us to lead a nomadic life through its chequered provision of resources and beauty.
My father gently gathers a handful of soil before saying “This is where we came from, this is where we belong.” We reminisce. The decision is made to vacate this area to allow rejuvenation and we begin to leave without regret . We approach mud flats. We gather our fundamental skills and weaponry before gathering necessities. Once again we exalt in dusk’s symbols, however, primal instinct tells us to find cover. We reflect upon our ancient spirits, feeling the warmth of our collective consciousness, before sleep over takes us.
We are startled by a sudden heavy rain, as small droplets seem to congregate creating rushing streams moving in irregular pattern down the face of the rock serving as our shelter. Ominous thunder claps are heard overhead, contrasting the silent ferocity of jagged lightning strikes. An elder points south-west. His eagle-like vision results from decades of hunting. Accompanied by his connection to the land, a kinaesthetic sense has developed. He glimpses a recurring flickering light on the horizon. Other elders begin to stir and a consuming feeling of uneasiness grows.
As the sun begins its arduous climb over our land, we approach with caution; near the area the lights were spotted. Mounting the lee of the escarpment, we stand on cliff’s edge. The magnificence of the horizon contrasts to the devastation lying on ground. Below us the newly reformed landscape is littered with corpses of a tribe of our fellows. Foreigners have fled like furtive fauna leaving behind their marks of supremacy. These massacred people were our family; belonging to us. However, part of our spirit is now irreplaceably gone, callously murdered by an ignorant race of intruders. Suddenly feeling an overpowering sense of inevitability as if our destiny was snatched out of our control, our sense of belonging here has now lessened.
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We trudge down the cliff, our glances darting left and right. The level of destruction becomes apparent. Our ancestral land is tarnished. Fire has gutted the once magnificent burringora that were our guardians. A rudimentary dam has drowned much of the rough scrub in our sacred clearing. A half finished barb wire fence scars the earth. An overwhelming sense of pain and hatred, intercostal muscles start to generate irregular patterns of breath, before we start to collectively weep. This land is in more ways than one connected to us and our sense of belonging is vitally destroyed with the destruction of the land.
Lying there, the silence of the night only served to merely amplify my thoughts….
Nightfall once welcomed a sense of belonging but now only welcomes a sense of fear. Stars once offered spiritual guides but now only offer navigational tools. Land once held our culture, it now only holds commodities. Belonging was once present, belonging is now the past.
Burringora – Dhurug for Forest Red Gums once common in Sydney basin
Shadows lengthen as the sun descends casting an eerie glow over the land. The sky ablaze with colour, fiery orange and searing reds interlaced with sky blues and pure milky whites. Fading to purple and then lifeless black. We lie on the earth and time fades to nothing more than a distance memory. Stars becoming visible, as they slowly grow brighter our cultural stories are revealed. Our guide to the past, the future and where we belong.
Our reverie in sleep is broken hours later by the distinct sound of screeching seagulls and the illuminating rays of light. The sun continues its battle to shine through the clouds. The ocean forces its mass up onto the shoreline. Seemingly pulsating, it swiftly retracts back into the unknowable mysteries it holds. Our appreciation of the natural beauties can be attributed to our cultural ideals. The land is our mother encouraging us to lead a nomadic life through its chequered provision of resources and beauty.
My father gently gathers a handful of soil before saying “This is where we came from, this is where we belong.” We reminisce. The decision is made to vacate this area to allow rejuvenation and we begin to leave without regret . We approach mud flats. We gather our fundamental skills and weaponry before gathering necessities. Once again we exalt in dusk’s symbols, however, primal instinct tells us to find cover. We reflect upon our ancient spirits, feeling the warmth of our collective consciousness, before sleep over takes us.
We are startled by a sudden heavy rain, as small droplets seem to congregate creating rushing streams moving in irregular pattern down the face of the rock serving as our shelter. Ominous thunder claps are heard overhead, contrasting the silent ferocity of jagged lightning strikes. An elder points south-west. His eagle-like vision results from decades of hunting. Accompanied by his connection to the land, a kinaesthetic sense has developed. He glimpses a recurring flickering light on the horizon. Other elders begin to stir and a consuming feeling of uneasiness grows.
As the sun begins its arduous climb over our land, we approach with caution; near the area the lights were spotted. Mounting the lee of the escarpment, we stand on cliff’s edge. The magnificence of the horizon contrasts to the devastation lying on ground. Below us the newly reformed landscape is littered with corpses of a tribe of our fellows. Foreigners have fled like furtive fauna leaving behind their marks of supremacy. These massacred people were our family; belonging to us. However, part of our spirit is now irreplaceably gone, callously murdered by an ignorant race of intruders. Suddenly feeling an overpowering sense of inevitability as if our destiny was snatched out of our control, our sense of belonging here has now lessened.
.......................................................................................................................
...............................................................................................
We trudge down the cliff, our glances darting left and right. The level of destruction becomes apparent. Our ancestral land is tarnished. Fire has gutted the once magnificent burringora that were our guardians. A rudimentary dam has drowned much of the rough scrub in our sacred clearing. A half finished barb wire fence scars the earth. An overwhelming sense of pain and hatred, intercostal muscles start to generate irregular patterns of breath, before we start to collectively weep. This land is in more ways than one connected to us and our sense of belonging is vitally destroyed with the destruction of the land.
Lying there, the silence of the night only served to merely amplify my thoughts….
Nightfall once welcomed a sense of belonging but now only welcomes a sense of fear. Stars once offered spiritual guides but now only offer navigational tools. Land once held our culture, it now only holds commodities. Belonging was once present, belonging is now the past.
Burringora – Dhurug for Forest Red Gums once common in Sydney basin