u/VanPero21

I think I start sentences with characters' names and pronouns too much. Any other criticisms are welcome.

Lily rested on her back underneath the shade of the tree, her light hair sprawled across the grass like roads on a map. She and Zoe were listening intently to Mikayla lie about having an affair with a French boy, who had conveniently left for France without leaving a trace. "Antonio" was described as being a cross between Montgomery Clift and Paul Newman, which Lily found difficult to picture in her head. Lily was also certain that Antonio wasn't a French name but she didn't say anything anyways. Lily and Zoe enjoyed Mikayla's lies. They brought colour to the sleepy town. The other day, Mikayla said she caught a peeping Tom peering through her window, who purportedly looked like Alain Delon. Mikayla was just so scandalous. She didn't live in his town, she lived in her head. However, Mikayla's stories were innocuous compared to the other tales that circulated conversation in town. People were accused of feats of drunkenness that humans just weren't physically possible of. Sometimes, there were even accusations of incest, which Lily chose to ignore. Despite their malice, Lily understood why these stories emerged. People wanted drama in their lives. People wanted something to talk about in this sleepy town.

Lily played with a tiny green bug on her white hands, her eyes taking in the rippling gold light that shimmered on the glossy leaves. She would happily trade this tree for graffiti on a Brutalist wall. In the city, trees were extras and it was the buildings that told the stories. Lily took the beauty of trees for granted. She took her own beauty for granted too.

Lily wanted to be somewhere were you could hear people speaking Chinese or Polish when you were walking down the street. If you found yourself in the company of immigrants it meant that you were in a place worth being. Museums, night clubs, boutiques and restaurants of various cuisines. Somewhere cosmopolitan. Somewhere new.

I think I start sentences with characters' names and pronouns too much. Any other criticisms are welcome.

Lily rested on her back underneath the shade of the tree, her light hair sprawled across the grass like roads on a map. She and Zoe were listening intently to Mikayla lie about having an affair with a French boy, who had conveniently left for France without leaving a trace. "Antonio" was described as being a cross between Montgomery Clift and Paul Newman, which Lily found difficult to picture in her head. Lily was also certain that Antonio wasn't a French name but she didn't say anything anyways. Lily and Zoe enjoyed Mikayla's lies. They brought colour to the sleepy town. The other day, Mikayla said she caught a peeping Tom peering through her window, who purportedly looked like Alain Delon. Mikayla was just so scandalous. She didn't live in his town, she lived in her head. However, Mikayla's stories were innocuous compared to the other tales that circulated conversation in town. People were accused of feats of drunkenness that humans just weren't physically possible of. Sometimes, there were even accusations of incest, which Lily chose to ignore. Despite their malice, Lily understood why these stories emerged. People wanted drama in their lives. People wanted something to talk about in this sleepy town.

Lily played with a tiny green bug on her white hands, her eyes taking in the rippling gold light that shimmered on the glossy leaves. She would happily trade this tree for graffiti on a Brutalist wall. In the city, trees were extras and it was the buildings that told the stories. Lily took the beauty of trees for granted. She took her own beauty for granted too.

Lily wanted to be somewhere were you could hear people speaking Chinese or Polish when you were walking down the street. If you found yourself in the company of immigrants it meant that you were in a place worth being. Museums, night clubs, boutiques and restaurants of various cuisines. Somewhere cosmopolitan. Somewhere new.