My Levels Of Detail

Every writer has a beginning. A predefined order of origin. But it is up to the writerโ€™s faith of fate and persistence in passion to continue the trail of development. One dew drop of feedback at a time, one yardโ€™s length of practice at a time, we all trek along the gradual slope of improvement.

Whether it be honing our craft for accurately hunting down our goals, or glazing our literary binoculars to carefully judge and conquer the audienceโ€™s hearts, every writer has to remain on the move.

Slow or swift, loud or literal, it is our choice on how we maintain our craftโ€™s collateral. For we must promise to pay with our pledge of patience.

Following here, I have decided to cast an experiment unto myself, to test my limits and how I approach a particular topic. Indeed, every sentence requires a goal like any other object in comparison โ€” life. To grant life to written forms of communication, it is advisable to gain or process the knowledge that we carry in an imaginary satchel above our heads.

Without further ado, I hereby start the session, with a simple sentence :

๐—Ÿ๐—ฒ๐˜ƒ๐—ฒ๐—น ๐Ÿญ

There is rice in a bowl.

๐—Ÿ๐—ฒ๐˜ƒ๐—ฒ๐—น ๐Ÿฎ

Atop an article of cutlery in the shape of a wooden hemisphere, rests a mountain of grains white.

๐—Ÿ๐—ฒ๐˜ƒ๐—ฒ๐—น ๐Ÿฏ

Resting within the confines of a prosthetically-designed shell composed of wood belonging to a thousand years of time in growth, a homogenous mound of a staple cereal, like beady pearls, glittered with unity.

๐—Ÿ๐—ฒ๐˜ƒ๐—ฒ๐—น ๐Ÿฐ

By the inheritance of ages gone past, by the power of knowledge passed down the corridor of generations, a token of humanityโ€™s ancestors were morphed right into the skin of a dead treeโ€™s corpses. The grainy surface of the expertly-shaped chassis resembled the synergy of mankind as they traded skills for improving their lifestyle โ€” winding around without order and yet in perfect synchrony with the song of life. The primary purpose of the instrument, man-made and god-gifted, was to withhold the treasures it nurtured against the dirt and dust of the outer realm. Certainly, it was brimming with a flourishing population of cultured unborn plant babies. Harvested for a greater good, they were now in a sanctuary leagues away from their grassy parents. Unaware of the sacrifice for which they were summoned into this world in the first place. Innocently dormant and awaiting their mortal demise.

๐—Ÿ๐—ฒ๐˜ƒ๐—ฒ๐—น ๐Ÿฑ

From the Creator powerful enough to coordinate entire families of galaxies to sustaining the existence and development of life across the universe, a network of knowledge had been blessed upon the sentient creatures we call humans. And thus, by the dutiful hands of the earthly beings themselves โ€” blessed by the ability to learn and adapt โ€” one of their earliest and finest proofs of knowledge and craftsmanship involved manipulating and altering the gifts of nature to abide by their desires and demands. The residue result from one such sample endeavor was evident in the form of a miniature citadel of woven bark โ€” a steady supply of xylem only made possible by the respectful symbiosis of senior plants, in submission to the same Lord Almighty who created them all. Humans needed materials, so the agents of nature obeyed, just as the hereditary home they all were grounded upon. As such, the decaying cells within the winding maze of their fused family, bent and bound, awaited death. Simultaneously, they envied the young packets of living starch sheltered within the hollow of the castle they were responsible for. So innocent and yet, ready for death at the hands of local deities beyond comprehension. If only they could retreat back to their parents, they could have wished to be born as a carnal creature capable of locomotion at will. Nevertheless, this was the purpose for which their Supreme Lord had created them for. And with utmost gratitude, they were ready to accept. On the very least, they had fully served the goal destined for their lives. For any less, they would be remembered as martyrs among treekind and heroes for the heirloom of territorial food crops.

From this point onwards, it would be advisable to split the so-called โ€œsentenceโ€ into multiple paragraphs for clarity and to honor the English language laws.