Monday 29 June 2009

perspective

He wasn't happy. I had driven down a 200 metre stretch of road which belonged to him. A small stretch of road lost in the middle of vast countryside. Had I not seen the notice saying it only belonged to him? That only he had the right to take it? With his four wheel drive landrover? 200 metres of tarmac on the map. An insignificant run of cement in his own country. An inconsequential streak of black on the planet. Yet there he was defending his measly bit of road, with his teeth clenched, his face red and pearls of sweat sprouting on his forehead.

Saturday 27 June 2009

the way to do it

I was standing at a very busy crossroads in the middle of town. The kind you don't try to walk across without the little man turning green because there seems to be no logic whatsoever in the rhythm of cars stopping and going. That crossroads and I have known each other for years yet I still have not discovered the magic moment when everything is brought to a halt and - if your timing is good - it is still safe to cross despite the fact that everything is still glowing a stubborn red.

So, I was standing at this particularly busy crossroads in the middle of town when two very aged gentlemen reached the height of the kerb on which I was waiting and stood there for a very brief moment by my side. I don't know what pushed them to cross the road. I don't think it was the consequence of any deep reflection but more a mixture of distraction, a blind belief in destiny and the privilege of old age. Whatever it was, they did. Cross the busy road. Hand in hand.

The two of them tottered across and the cars made their way around them the way a river flows around a stone. Not a hoot. Not an angry shout from their drivers. Just respect and awe for the sheer madness of two old men who were no more at a point in their life when they waited patiently to be told when to make a move.

Thursday 25 June 2009

oh my god...

She leaned over and wiped his mouth until there was no trace of coffee left, while he continued to read the day's news in the paper.

Monday 22 June 2009

I don't know

I was in the ladies' sitting quietly on the pot when someone came in and occupied the cubicle beside mine. After a noisy ruffle of fabric, I heard what sounded like two buckets of water being emptied into a gutter followed by three medium-sized stones dropping into a deep well. Then whatever was in there started to spray...something.

Friday 19 June 2009

They had cut a chunk out of you

You were standing there young and handsome, with a bewildered look in your eyes. You seemed to be holding everything together with your arms which you held crossed against your chest in a desperate hug. When you turned your head, it turned in small jerks. When you uncrossed your arms, your whole body trembled uncoordinated. You smiled at every pretty girl who walked past you. A wide childish smile you couldn't control, which became a bitter grin as they continued their way unperturbed. Then the bus arrived and you turned in your jagged way to take it. That was when I saw the hole at the base of your skull and a scar as wide as your smile on the side of your head.

Monday 15 June 2009

and now we have the opinion of a privileged observer

...said the journalist. And the camera turned to a man whose eyes had been set to look in two different directions at the one time.

they keep us going

He had more years in him than was healthy.
But he was kept upright with the aid of a walking stick,
He stayed in touch thanks to two hearing-aids and a pair of glasses,
And he had a new set of teeth to chew with.

when everything is still taken for granted

...
I had a train to catch.

Instead I caught a busload of teenagers traipsing across the road, heading for their school opposite. There seemed to be no end to the procession of long-haired, lanky, all-the-time-in-the-world, skulking adolescents to whom the thought of thanking those who were waiting for them, to span the distance between one kerb and the other, would have never occurred. All I got were defiant looks peering through a jungle of overgrown fringes.

Cats do the same when you open the window to let them in.

Thursday 4 June 2009

we were taught to

go to school
get good marks
choose a job that you do every day and that pays

and most of us do it.

Wednesday 3 June 2009

towards the end of the afternoon somewhere in Geneva

She shrieked from the other side of the road, flung her arms into the air and stamped her feet excitedly on the edge of the pavement. The other girl turned to see where the shrieks were coming from, recognised her friend, waved to her frantically and screamed screamy things over the deafening traffic. They both waited impatiently for the lights to turn red. Gasping, waving, oohing. When the lights turned green for them, the two girls "oh my God"ed across the street and dived into each others arms with relief. They hadn't seen each other since lunch time.

Tuesday 2 June 2009

a thought

The worth of an occupation is measured by the amount of money you earn to do it. Anything else is considered to be a cute pastime.

a second thought

It could well be that the worth of a person follows the same kind of reasoning.