Wednesday, August 31, 2005

last day of august


Last day of August. A lipsticked rowan, gaudying it before succumbing to Autumn. Ash saplings among the borders. Haze over the heavy city at the bottom of the hill. At the top, among the trees, mobile phone chops my ear. Camera beeps - the batteries are dead.

Saturday, August 27, 2005

dreamtime

I wanted to dream of the park last night. I didn't. Does it dream me?

Friday, August 26, 2005

snapshot eyes


Cold sun, late August. The woman in the paper shop says "You don't know what to put on."

Behind the hedge at the park entrance, two teenage boys, woolly hats pulled down over their ears, with two alsations - the dogs snarling and jousting with each other.

Off the path, a white solid dog with chisel head and pink eyes - crapping, head turned towards the hedge. Owner stands, lead taut, looking the other way. The red shit bin is at the top of the hill.

At the top of the hill, a henna haired woman in a thick jumper sits on a bench next to a thin other worldly man with pale grey hair. She has given him her pink cotton scarf to wear.

Eyes, ears, nose, camera, notebook - here goes.....

brook park


Brook Park - my local - and a green place in a sprawling city. Full of dog walkers, small children, bowls players and old hippies by day; bad lads and police helicopters by night. A community united by the pull of this space. Here starteth its very own blog.