Those glowing orange embers, if only I could take a photograph of those lovely shapes of light. People are always rambling on the beauty of trees or the sky or the ocean in books and stories. You'll be reading a perfectly good story and suddenly the author fancied to start a diatribe about the beauty of the clouds.
No offense to writers everywhere, but writing about clouds is pretentious and self-centered. Everyone who ever wrote a paragraph about a cloud and still decided to put it in the final book should just go jump off a cliff. In fact, anyone describing anything non-important to the story is an anyone I suddenly don't care for. But back to that lovely fire.
Dedicated to Miss Jennifer Albritton, for being a lovely person.
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