I read some copy for a real estate listing, and I thought, “Wow, this is game and lame at the same time.” Game because the Realtor was really trying to stretch beyond typically insipid real estate copy. Lame because, well, even so — the copy was lame. It led with a cliche, then jumped immediately into EduSpeak, the unreadable argot of academia. Within a scant few seconds, we were right back in Realtorville, an unending list of features without a benefit — nor a beneficiary — in sight. In the end, it was game-by-intent, an attempt to attempt to do something different — without actually doing anything differently.
Here’s my take on the same theme:
What you notice first is the quiet — but you don’t even actually notice it. The air is so still and the silence so complete that you don’t truly hear the quiet until it is interrupted.
What was that?! That scampering sound. You peer into the underbrush and there it is — a Whiptail lizard twenty yards away — and you were actually able to hear its tiny footfalls.
You don’t feel the breeze as much as you see it in the lazy skirling of the Redtail hawks overhead. The sun is omnipresent, but you feel it best in the tingling on your skin. You breathe deep, relishing the crisp, clean scent of creosote slowly baking in the heat of the afternoon…
This is the desert — the desert you came here to find but lost somewhere in a vast, overpacked parking lot.
This is the desert — untamed and illimitable, alive and thriving against all odds.
This is the desert — not a day trip, not a camping trip, not a now-and-then excursion.
This is home. Your home, from now on…
That’s an introduction. I’m not selling a house. I’m selling a life. In this case, a life with some negatives — the commute to Phoenix is at least 45 minutes, and the buyer is going to find snakes and scorpions in the home several times a year. But what I want to sell about this property is the unique life that this home Read more
