Passage 1: …At such time I knew for certain, that this place I called “home” was the pathway that led me into the heart of mine, and that me myself, for long abandoned this place, and also the feeling of being bored of my own origin so much, had been accepted and replaced with the happy, joy, gratitude, delight and peace, all now flow into me like a new first wind of a spring I dearly love so much; and that no matter how hard life is can seems to me, being mixed with the colors of sadness and despair, intertwined with the chaos, conflicts that will never stop, conflicts that I hardly understand, will always be there, and that whenever it all feel too much for me that I just want to stop for a moment to find a bit of peace, home is there; to welcome my little existence and no matter how much has happened, it’s there.
Passage 2: The train passed, with the slight city rain, there I sit with my own self. The cold air, with the lingering sadness, with some quick deep breaths, and with the blue that I have been so familiar with. The cold air which had been there for long, cleansing the air, and dirty the soils, and wet the hot roads, and wind follows, and cut through the busting city life, and bring life, and tear away our hearts; rain comes, and stop, and come, and stop; but is always there to welcome lonely soul who need a moment of tranquil in life.
After reading my pastiches and reading my peers’, it seems that everyone’s pastiches are all amazing in their own style. The thing that makes every pastiches successful to me is that it follows the form carefully and everyone was able to express something unique, special to them.
What I have learnt mainly through writing pastiches is that by being restricted by form, we can work around our perimeter and still produce something that speaks out who we are as a writer and what are ideals mean to us.