It’s feels like I’m taking dictation from life at the moment - a lot of everything and nothing filling my notebook. A few scraps in the meantime…
She sleeps in a knot. Come morning she will untangle and stretch and enter another day that will confuse and tie her. She’s a ribbon, a string, a fraying bootlace. She sleeps like a boiled sweet - wrapped in a folded sheet, twisted at each end.
Wednesday market stall - mesmerised for a moment by a tumble of colour contained by glass. Like something from a fairy tale - dreams of genies and potions. Actually just a heap of cheap nail polish.
She’s like a cat in that new cardigan. She’s moulting. Leaving a hairy path behind her. We know where she’s been and we follow. The beads clatter around her thin wrists and we think it’s the sound of her bones.
4 comments:
your scraps are great sketches from life and of life we usually fail to notice
Hello! :)
a 'tumble of colour' - what a great image... I think the thin wristed one sounds like an interesting character...x
Your writing makes me desperately want to be young again....
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