Day 866 #Freewrite - picker

It’s been a few days, guys. In addition to the Justin Sun stuff, I had some personal things that have kept me away from writing for a few days. I’ve written journal-ish-type-stuff but not anything worthy of posting. I’m gonna respond to this prompt and then respond to the prompts that I missed in a sort of marathon for free writing. The [prompt](https://steemit.com/hive-161155/@mariannewest/day-866-5-minute-freewrite-wednesday-prompt-picker) from @mariannewest for today was "picker". Here is what came from the prompt:

https://cdn.steemitimages.com/DQmf1PeEzoW9yiufj4mALD7qiUYpVvFjjY2GHesaHDMhjAM/photo-1522556256306-727dcd29c799.jpeg

https://steemitimages.com/80x80/https://steemitimages.com/DQmVzSo2bfA2xrbshEQjjbTKeXGJpX5dy1KXjkQwR24phPW/grunge-spade-symbol-4-1004x1024.png He used to be a memory picker. He would get up in the morning with his long beard, his wizened moustache and eyebrows blending into a full head of autumn hair. His eyes used to be hazel, and they would change with the colors of the memory he was picking. He would look for them in trees and in the ground, but mostly he found them in the sky where he imagined the heavens were. It wasn’t the cosmos he was focused upon, but the idea that there was life after death, and that there might be a beautiful reunion after all of the terrible things survived on this earth. If that was not a cosmic idea to him, there was no such thing. Perhaps he *did* truly live in a state of such replete knowledge that he never needed to wonder about those things. Perhaps he never imagined or wondered because he was ignorant to such a corner of thought, although it is hard to imagine such from a picker of memories. Perhaps that is how he lost his way. He sells ice cream now. Out of a truck down by the river. He sells chocolate fudgesicles to children who are steaming from the river or from being told they could only get one ice cream, and not two. Children in the area were not known for their temperance, nor were their parents. Every now and then, he will see a glimmer of a memory in a child’s eye, or that of a mom chattering away on her phone, or that of a father who looks far too possessively at his children, and he gets really sad. https://steemitimages.com/80x80/https://steemitimages.com/DQmVzSo2bfA2xrbshEQjjbTKeXGJpX5dy1KXjkQwR24phPW/grunge-spade-symbol-4-1004x1024.png Keep an eye out for more work. I am hoping to utilize this platform to strengthen my generative acumen, and am working on getting some projects off the ground. I also want to come at writing from an educational perspective in the future. If you are interested in commenting or critiquing my work, I would appreciate it. If you are interested in approaching writing from an educational perspective (learning/teaching writing) please comment below, as I am trying to gauge how much interest there is in this sort of thing.