Week 1

Describe the view from your window (up to 250 words). An exercise in perspective.

Draft:

I see the world from an elevated platform as l look out on the vista of a terraced row. The back of every house is, at first glance, the same. Ten dwellings in a line, the flat roof lays like an oppressive hand, and yet it provides protection and shelter. A row of windows is next. Some are indented, as ours was before the glaziers came and forever changed my view.

We all have the same sized garden; mine has been gravelled, rendering every rose an oasis of colour from which petals rain as each new bud erupts.

My blue shed stands in one corner, a cornucopia of treasures guarded by a wealth of spiders. From over the rear fence I can hear a dog barking, deep and surly, he doesn’t like to be locked out in solitary confinement, but the choice is not his to make.

The leaves are losing interest in the summer. Their vibrancy wanes as the autumn advances. Soon the colours will change completely. The yellow-gold will rust away as their life is drained from them and the skeletal fingers of winter will rake at the skies.

Redraft:

Clouds of dirty cotton wool tarnish the azure sky. The flat-roofed terrace soaks up the remaining summer-sun as it peeks around the clouds. The houses barricade the trees whose yellow-gold leaves are rusting away, their life draining from them as the skeletal fingers of winter pluck them clean.

We all have the same sized garden; mine has been gravelled, rendering every rose an oasis of colour from which petals rain as each new bud erupts. The blue shed in one corner is a cornucopia of treasures guarded by a wealth of spiders. My castle is warded all around by a peach bailey to create the illusion of a tiny beach. There are no waves to wash it clean. From over the rear fence I can hear a dog barking, deep and surly, he doesn’t like to be locked out in solitary confinement, but the choice is not his to make.

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