It’s the little things that count

by emona

Blast from the past time: When I was 17 years old, I contributed several short articles to a website called Ickle. (tagline: it’s the little things that count). The site’s long gone, but through the magic of Wayback Machine, you can view most of it here.

All the articles are worth a view, but here’s the three I kicked out, back when I expected to be published and decorated twice over by now. Reading these ten years later, I’m still unabashedly proud. We all started somewhere! I am particularly pleased with Monaco. I remember at the time thinking I was pretty clever, getting everything to rhyme…

ASHES: Ashes. The end of what once was. The proof of what used to be. Whether tapped from the slender end of a cigarette or dashed mournfully across a wide, blue ocean, ashes are the remnant of a fire long gone. Ashes are often clung dearly to, placed in urns that rival shrines. Or dumped carelessly outside, along with butts and nicotine smears. Or used to cross foreheads and hands of the faithful world wide. They even have their own Wednesday. Do you have your own Wednesday?

MONACO: Located a sneeze from France, Monaco is a speck of a country that lives on music, money and romance. From any given Monacoian tree, you can see this ickle country in its entirety. Behold, the 0.76 sq mile land of culture and dignity.

US: If you think of things on a grand scale, we are the ickle of the ickle. In a human’s selfish views, we are masters of our planet. But who is the master of us? When you look to the sky at night, past the smog and the streetlights and the flashing neon signs, there are millions of planets with millions of moons. And somewhere, out in that great large space with it’s great many nooks, someone may be looking back down at you.

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