Comments on image prompt: Street of Yellow Houses

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Re:differing from vs differing than...

That's how I remember which it is supposed to be...  But 'different than' is just one of those common ungrammaticalities that has come to sound familiar, therefore correct to many ears. 

How many times of late have we heard people who should know better, using subjective "I" where it should be objective "me?"  It isn't a hard thing, to just shift the sentence around a bit... to hear what really sounds right.  I heard a journalist recently say something like, "They took he and I."  If at all in doubt, I plug in "we/us" to see if it sounds screwy or not.  "They took we..."  No. Not even a little...!

posted by Ciel on May 24, 2008 at 3:03 PM | link to this | reply

Thanks, Ciel
Ya know I waffled with that - whether or not is should be from or than.  So thank you for bring that to my attention.  It was one of thosde grammatical things that had me stumped this morning.   

posted by Troosha on May 24, 2008 at 11:32 AM | link to this | reply

Yes, I will fix those...

one other thing caught my editorial eye:

'different than mine"

technically, should be from, rather than than...    But it may be a matter of poetic preference, too. 

posted by Ciel on May 24, 2008 at 11:14 AM | link to this | reply

Ciel
Noticed a couple of typos I made (if you would be so kind as to fix them).  1)  Not so different than mine – not mind and   2) doors slightly ajar – not slight.  I’ll be back for more fun.  Already the new pic you posted has peaked my interest…..

posted by Troosha on May 24, 2008 at 10:57 AM | link to this | reply

Ah, Troosha, that's beautiful! And just like you were there, walking down

that street along side me...!

 

posted by Ciel on May 24, 2008 at 9:00 AM | link to this | reply

 

Upon cobbled street
my feet do fall
tracing time like an HB pencil upon onion skin paper
The mid day sun
pounds upon my bare shoulders
and my bag is laden with trinkets acquired at the market
The locals know it’s siesta
and my very presence on the sleeping streets
is a dead give-away
that I am a tourist from the East
Yet the narrowness of the lane
calls me
As I walk past shuttered windows
and doors slight ajar
I sneak a peak at life not so different than mind
just slightly more mysterious
The richness of the adobe walls
holds stories of days gone by;
stories I long to hear
So I walk some more under the blazing sun

posted by Troosha on May 24, 2008 at 7:24 AM | link to this | reply