My hair is still damp from the rain and I flick the tips towards a stranger. Where we can powder our noses? we ask you because it is necessary to transform ourselves with carefully placed kirby grips and shiny lips. You start to give directions but your voice fades because your eyes watch an elderly woman who has spilled red wine on her silk dress and has several people pawing unhelpfully at her dress with napkins. We hear her say, Thank you ever so much, laughing so her curls shake like chocolate shavings on a dessert. Follow her, you say.
Posts Tagged ‘rain’
Posted in Age: 31-40, Gender: Male, Location: Arts Venue, tagged city, conversations, creative writing, literature, london, One Hundred Days To Make Me A Better Person, rain, strangers, wine, writing on December 8, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
Posted in Age: 21-30, Gender: Male, Location: Shop/Market, tagged chunukah, city, conversations, creative writing, literature, london, rain, raining, strangers, umbrella, writing on November 29, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
You walk into the shop, shaved head, downturned mouth and ask for Chanukah candles. The small ones are cheap and colourful but last only a couple of hours, so the thick, twisted choice suits. You need to concentrate, you lean your umbrella against the shelves. As you decide, I see you twist the skin on your wrist as far as it will go, maybe to make sure you do still have skin, that it reacts when touched and that it responds to pressure. When you release your grip, a scarlet depression remains, and you seem elated. Today, it’s raining again.
Posted in Age: under 10, Gender: Male, Location: Outside/Street/Park, tagged bikes, city, conversations, creative writing, deer, donkey, hampstead heath, heath, literature, london, owl, rain, running, strangers, writing on November 22, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
I run in the rain, through the heath, down a private road, to the park. The donkeys wave. Two owls peer out. You have a toy airplane in your hand and make it sweep through the air. You lift it up to show the others, making it fly over their heads. Look! you say. Magic. I speak to you and your three little brothers who sit on their bikes, in height order, and stare at me as I jog pass. You tell me to look for the deer. My day takes on a new shape, loses some of its thorniness.
Posted in Age: 41-50, Gender: Male, Location: Shop/Market, tagged city, conversations, creative writing, exmouth market, hula hoops, literature, london, rain, strangers, writing on November 11, 2009 | Leave a Comment »
You are watching a portable television as you serve me. There are several drums and wind instruments playing music and you are engrossed. I take my time selecting the items I want. I pick things up, examine, think, then put them down again, listening and hiding from the rain. You are out of place in Exmouth Market. You sell what people actually want. I need Hula Hoops. I have chosen a flavour I usually avoid. Can I tell you this? No. I arrange my choices in the shape of a smiley face. I’m ready. You don’t even look at me.