By Lily Baker
The air smells fresh and plain, since I am outside, in the warm, bright sun. There is a tree that is solemn, peaceful and brown. It matches the water in the gutters which is also a dull, muddy brown. Dozens of wild, energetic children screech loudly in the distance, like the brazen sirens of a speeding police car. There is some bright green grass that is as green as the leaves on the trees surrounding the steep hill that leads down to the peaceful brown tree. The gutters are silent and almost dry, like a valley in a desert where it hasn’t rained for a long time. Apart from the children, and an occasional song from a bird flying overhead, all is silent. Suddenly, a plane soars across the sky, leaving a bright, white trail of fluffy smoke drawn across the quiet, cloudless, light blue sky. It’s engine makes a soft, droning buzz, far away from the earth. It only looks like a small, unimportant dot far away in the sky. There is no movement except for the slow, constant flying of the little white plane high in the sky. Everything here is peaceful, calm, quiet, dull.