What one remembers... #1

Good Morning/Afternoon/Evening/Night(whichever one it is in your part of the world),

Hi! I'm here to leave a quick review!!

Anyway let's get right to it,

Why, what is this? Paper, pen and ink. One could write with this one thinks. What should one write about one wonders? One knows, one shall write about one’s self. Who should one write it for though? One dose not know. One shall just write! Where shall one start? One knows...

One remembers, one sunny day, that one loved. One would always sit some where – one can not remember where – and the Sun would shine, the Sun is what one misses the most; besides one other one that one is to pained to talk of, for fear of dying. Anyway, one remembers the Sun, like one said, and one also remembers a very light and wonderful breeze. One would always remember the breeze. One would always sit on some rectangular stone structure and watch the birds – well, at lease one thinks that is what they were called, it has been so long, one almost forgot how to write; but one remembers now! The ultimate joy!

Hmm...well this is quite the interesting piece. The thing that caught my attention right away was the use of one. Its an odd sort of tense to use and it gives an interesting sort of tint to the whole piece that you just don't get with any other sort of thing being used in its place. That couples very interestingly with the kind of image this piece is attempting to paint here to make quite the start here.

One also remembers one particular day in that singular heaven. Where one would sit with another one. It pains one to remember my other one; but one fears of forgetting and that is worse than remembering. One used to sit on that same stone structure with my other one. We would sit in perfect peace, and one would be the happiest one in the world. We would sit and watch the birds, and other beautiful things that I have forgotten, and we would be as beautiful at heart as them; until I lost mine – my heart and my one.

Alright, well it seems we're somehow jumping from what was mostly some sort of wonderfully calming kind of atmosphere to what seems to be a bit of a subtle sort of nod towards the concept of love in some farm. Its a little hard to say but it does seem to be headed in that direction from what I can glean here.

One will not talk of my one now. It is too much. One will instead, talk about the things that make one happy! Like the fried material that one has when one wakes up. That the serving one calls: “toast”. One does not make sense of this name. One sees not the point. One describes things, one does not need names! One also loves the yellowy substance that one spreads on this “toast”. That is also named, but one will not defile these pages anymore with ridiculous naming.

One does not know what else to write now; so one will stop. One will write again soon though. About one’s pleasures and – maybe – about my one.

Aaand well it seems we stick with that sort of heart related route we started there and take that to the very end. Well, it does certainly come together quite nicely to make what has been a very intriguing piece to read here. I think you've done a pretty solid job of that.

Aaaaand that's it for this one.

As always remember to take what you think was helpful and forget the rest.

Stay Safe
Harry

Okay, this is one of the few reviews I will be doing today. I don't like to see zero replies .

One [s]dose [/s] does not know

.

I don't really notice anything else and I'm really not a grammar freak. I just like to read a good story!

Okay, I understand the effect you were going for but all the "Ones" was starting to get confusing like here...

the Sun is what one misses the most; besides one other one that one is to pained to talk of, for fear of dying.

I honestly did not get that.

I don't mean to be harsh but you should read it out loud and see if you understand it. Read it backwords so it doesn't seem like a story to check for errors. Good Luck.