This is just another description of the gutter since I am feeling like handing out explanations. I would like to further develop my ability to use description.

My life is a happy one and I love living it, but sometimes you need to admit that imagination can be a great and powerful thing to have. You can go anywhere you want to go and see anything you want to see. I absolutely love it! The gutter is my home.

What do you see?

Me. For me trees surround me. Not regular trees, but enormous spindly giants that are fantastic and compelling to envision; reds of roses and reds of flames. Greens of visual complexity never to be of one tone or one shade. These trees are always moving in an unrestrained repetuous motion. Some sway gently as if to a dance with an embracing love about them, while others move in a quite different fashion. Those few individual trees are what you really notice. They shake violently and force the earth beneath my feet to to tremble in something almost like an emotion. One that you cannot possibly think to comprehend. It could be anger and frustration as if they wished to rip their roots from the ground and fly. It is as mystifying to me as everything else around me.

None of these trees are formed of precise lines and shapes or forms. Nothing in the gutter is, really. Everything is more of feelings and colors. The view that you recieve is more a swirling of colors leading torwards the zenith of the sky. The clouds are the only things that are not of vivid colors as they are are always dark and gray or vibrantly blaring in a supreme white of all whites shimmering crystal glasses in the sky. Well almost always. At sunset and sunrise they appear as tinted blood and sunlight fused together and circulating in a clashing and contradicting harmony that relates to everything else about the place.

The soil to the gutter is a rich brown dark fudge. It crumbles between your toes with a satisfyingly cool sensation comparable to mint on the tip of your tongue. And although the soil may seem cool it is as comforting as the sun and it makes me feel as if I ought to be bathing in it. The ground is littered with the debris of the trees glittering like the jewels they are in this supernal and preternatural world.

The water is fluid diamonds slowly trickling through the crevasses of the soft earth. There is a mist fogging the floor of the gutter that distorts everything that I see in a surreal appeal similar to looking at the bottom of a bathtub whilst you are bathing. The airt is moist and you can taste it with a tangy flavor not sweet and not spicy but like a tangerine. Just another oddity to the world that in itself belongs nowhere but in my heart.