CNF Writing Exercise: Exercise on Rhetorical
Techniques
I’ve many reasons to draw my curtains and take long naps during the sunset hours. The obvious reason that is easier to explain would be that those hours are great for naps, slow and quiet and receding. The more complex reason would be how they instill great fear within me. The rays of light that once showered warmth and company on my day fall victim to the inky black of the night. The inky abyss that most people close their eyes to. The same way the rays of light left me, knowing the immediate world around me is likely asleep make me feel far too alone, as if the sunset was a loss to grieve. Too much like death. Fleetingness. Afternoon sun is a no-no.
The reason I bring this up is how the small porch outside, and how it gets bathed in orange and yellow at around 3:00 to 4:00 PM, contradicts this dread for the sun’s death. Laying my eyes on that sunlit porch give me an idea of what a video game save point would look like in real life. The almost ethereal glow from the shiny stones on the floor, the rejuvinating sense of relief brought on by such a safe haven, the absolute stillness of air and plants amidst the light somehow creates a bubble of light and time that I can hide in before the darkness comes, instead of a cruel reminder of the sun’s end. There is a sense of relief in this permanence. The sturdy pillars and stone of the porch serve as an anchoring element, while the soft chirps of birds and crickets waking up amidst the quiet sounds of leaves allow for a lifelike company for me. That bubble of light would always be there everyday. Something to hold onto. I should admit the main reason I need to clumsily commemorate this is actually because that porch has also left me. It’s been renovated into a closed off laundry room now.
