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There is wind where the rose was,
Cold rain where sweet grass was,
And clouds like sheep
Stream o'er the steep
Grey skies where the lark was.

Nought warm where your hand was,
Nought gold where your hair was,
But phantom, forlorn,
Beneath the thorn,
Your ghost where your face was.

Cold wind where your voice was,
Tears, tears where my heart was,
And ever with me,
Child, ever with me,
Silence where hope was.

November by Walter de la Mare
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Hong Kong' s hidden rooftop farms... elderly people... and my imagination wandered a bit

filauziofilauzio Posts: 1,611 ✭✭✭✭✭
We read an interesting article on Monday, in Monday Night's Owls' Skype session hosted by @NatashaT: it was entitled: ' An inside view of Hong Kong's hidden rooftop farms '. It described the practice of carrying out garden farming on top roof of high tower blocks. In the article, the journalist enumerated all the advantages that such activity provided: compensation for shortage of farming lands on sea level, strict control on all the stages to grant the healthiness of production, savings on the building's energy's expenses due to thermal insulation, and opportunity for the elderly people to socialize, take light exercise and stave off dementia.
After reading and discussing the article, I tried to write down a comment: however, since I don't know that much about the topic, anything read being absolutely new to me, I began worrying I couldn't write anything at all.
I made an attempt though: I grasped the pen, the paper, and something, kind of a short story, appeared on the blank. I'd like to fix my errors and make sure what I write is understandable enough, so I would appreciate anyone's kindly feedbacks.

PS: never mind if you don't understand what I've written: that's the sort of things which, afterwards, often work with me too. :)
glad to stop strict diet, splashed in belly flop? Don't care you're not light, here on English hop !

Comments

  • filauziofilauzio Posts: 1,611 ✭✭✭✭✭

    They can sometimes go outdoor at dawn, only to be back home short after, just the time of taking a few paces, as if to welcome the arising of a new day, so saving us all this duty; the streets' rapid spotting with any kinds of traffic hurdles, in fact, make them anxious to seclude within four walls again.

    Midway through the morning, it takes them just a few minutes clangorous chatting with the next door neighbours, before an abrupt clank of the lift door shuting, is the starter's shot for them to go out again for their shopping at the local supermarket.

    Maybe they've either run short of the milk, which is the basic ingredient for all of their meagre meals, usually strictly out of prescription; or of the latest news about what's going on within their block: the kind of news the TV always fails to give account of.

    You can spot them, close midday, mingling with the rush hour's crowd, while walking along the street, a pet animal as unique company.

    Others are perhaps proceeding a bit leaned forward with curved shoulders, as if to stress and measure any paces, the hands crossed behind their back.
    They wear sun-glasses to protect eyes from the sun's beams, sometimes the catarat's operation's consequences playing a role in that fashionable bearings.

    Occasionally they rest, standing, by lying both hands on the hand rail of a fence, beyond which workmen are digging away.
    Their eyes promptly get watery and reddish with nostalgia of the time when they too were able to do such hard works: here they suddenly straighten up and seem about to address and utter something to the closest labourer.

    They struggle to gather and pick up appropriate words in their mind, the most friendly and sympathetic, giving for granted their past authority in the field is acknowledged though.

    But this effort is hard to them: this is the most difficult job they have to carry out these days: their memory is far more awkward tool to handle than a shovel for those in their manly age.

    You could think of them, the elderly, as kind of urban beasts, since they too are often compelled to arrange their lives in different temporal planes to the active citizens and workers.

    ' Know, dad ' I say, while driving him in my motor car ' that in Hong Kong they have experimented garden farming on top roof of high tower blocks ? It's also a good way for elderly people to socialize, take light exercise and stave off dementia... isn't it a progressive policy too ? '

    ' Yes ', says dad, putting on an astonished absorbed face, while looking at the steely, barren landscape.

    I come to a stop, I've got to the top roof of the building: it's a motor car parking, not exactly a garden farm therefore, although a few vases of plants are arranged all around the area, at an orderly fixed distance from one another.

    Any sprouts poking through the soil there ? I get closer and look: they are, all of them, covered up with garbage and cigarette ends: just the top roof farce of a top roof farm.


    http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20170517-an-inside-view-of-hong-kongs-hidden-rooftop-farms
    glad to stop strict diet, splashed in belly flop? Don't care you're not light, here on English hop !
  • mheredgemheredge Teacher Here and therePosts: 28,081 mod
    filauzio said:


    They can sometimes go outdoors at dawn, only to be back home shortly after, just the time of taking a few paces, as if to welcome the arising of a new day, so saving us all this duty; the streets' rapid spotting [?] with any kinds of traffic hurdles [blockages], in fact, make them anxious to seclude [seclude themselves, hide] within four walls again. [This is a very long sentence that might be worth rewriting as two or three much shorter ones]

    Midway through the morning, it takes them just a few minutes clangorous chatting with the next door neighbours, before an abrupt clank of the lift door shutting, is the starter's shot for them to go out again for their shopping at the local supermarket.

    Maybe they've either run short of the milk, which is the basic ingredient for all of their meagre meals, usually strictly out of prescription [?]; or of [?] the latest news about what's going on within their block; the kind of news the TV always fails to give account of.

    You can spot them, close to midday, mingling with the rush hour's crowd, while walking along the street, a pet animal as their unique company.

    Others are perhaps proceeding leaned forward slightly with curved shoulders, as if to stress and measure any paces, the hands crossed behind their back.
    They wear sun-glasses to protect their eyes from the sun's beams, sometimes the cataract's operation's consequences playing a role in their fashionable accessories.

    Occasionally they rest standing by laying both hands on the hand rail of a fence, beyond which workmen are digging away.
    Their eyes soon get watery and red with nostalgia of the time when they too were able to do such hard work. Here they suddenly straighten up and seem about to address and utter something to the closest labourer.

    They struggle to choose the appropriate words in their mind, the most friendly and sympathetic, taking for granted that their past authority in the field will be acknowledged though.

    But this effort is hard to them: this is the most difficult job they have had to carry out these days. Their memory is a far more awkward tool to handle than a shovel for those at their age.

    You could think of them, the elderly, as kinds of urban beasts, since they too are often compelled to arrange their lives in different temporal planes to the active citizens and workers.

    'Do you know, dad ' I say, while driving him in my motor car ' that in Hong Kong they have experimented with garden farming on top of the roofs of high tower blocks? It's also a good way for elderly people to socialize, take light exercise and stave off dementia... isn't it a progressive policy too? '

    ' Yes ', says dad, putting on an astonished absorbed face, while looking at the steely, barren landscape.

    I come to a stop, I've got to the top of the roof of the building. It's a car parking area, not exactly a garden farm although a few vases of plants are arranged all around the area, at an orderly fixed distance from one another.

    Any sprouts poking through the soil there? [do you mean Brussel sprouts or plants shoots?] I get closer and look. They are all of them, covered up with garbage and cigarette ends. It is just the top roof farce of a roof top farm.


    http://www.bbc.com/future/story/20170517-an-inside-view-of-hong-kongs-hidden-rooftop-farms

    This is very good @filauzio. You might want to check use of : as opposed to a new sentence. Short sentences tend to work better especially is descriptions. They are much more punchy as well as easier to write.
  • filauziofilauzio Posts: 1,611 ✭✭✭✭✭
    Thank you @mheredge for correcting me; I suppose it took you some effort and time, especially to work out the meaning of my sentences. This is way I appreciate your correction even more.

    ' ...Any sprouts poking through the soil there? [do you mean Brussel sprouts or plants shoots?]'

    Here I meant any possible kinds of plants shoots.

    ' ... the streets' rapid spotting [?] with any kinds of traffic hurdles [blockages], in fact, make them anxious to seclude [seclude themselves, hide] within four walls again.'

    Here I meant that as soon as town's working life begins again at dawn, when the streets begin swarming with people, cars, motorcycles, bicycles etc, older people hasten back home, as if in a fit of uncomfortable feeling.

    Thank you once more for encouragement: sometimes writing is the one thing which helps me restore my good mood. :)

    glad to stop strict diet, splashed in belly flop? Don't care you're not light, here on English hop !
  • mheredgemheredge Teacher Here and therePosts: 28,081 mod
    Thank you once more for encouragement: sometimes writing is the one thing which helps me restore my good mood. :)

    I know exactly what you mean @filauzio.
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