An Analysis Of Clarke Thought On The Surface

1176 Words Jun 13th, 2016 5 Pages
Before this, Clarke thought everything was on the surface, thought that everything was so simple. But as she stared at the deep laceration that tattooed her wrist, she knew that was merely a concept of an untrue nature. The mark on her arm had layers; it held more intricacy than what met the eye.

As she scrutinised it, she was overwhelmed by the prodigious knowledge she had attained, she felt suffocated by the capabilities of the bite on her wrist. She wondered how something so grotesque and so aggressive, could be so bewildering and tragically beautiful all at once. It was art, Clarke thought. That would make sense; art was always built on tragedy.

It was tantalising her with its metallic glaze and black and blue complexion, glaring right back at her. She held a fascination towards it, something only an artist could have. It’s something she would have captured with bold colours and defined lines, though she knew that something with this much power could not be easily justified.

She was so caught up in its undeniable beauty that, for a moment, she almost dismissed her surroundings, and the pain that her body embraced. Almost. She inhaled deeply, bringing herself back to reality and taking in the smell of Mother Nature’s conquest. She had gotten used to the lingering scent of death for the past seven years, that it was merely an undertone of the smells of the small forest growing in the forgotten mall she was condemned to.

Her exhale was entangled with a rugged laugh. Who…
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