1 minute read
AWalkintheVillage JonWood
ImakemywayuptheHighSt. pastthemixedVictorianfacades arrangedbywhimandfortune. AroundthecornerofChurchStreet
thebuggiesbegintoproliferate. Clearvoicesoftheconfidentclasses quickenthelanguidSundaymorningair: chastising,cajoling,passingon theireloquencetotheirsmallerselves beneathcrumblingcornices deadpediments,distantscrolls andmanymouldsofthegone.
Advertisement
Everywherethestage-setshops
arepinnedtoneglectedmasonry facesunderpeeledandcracked laminatedboardsthenakednew timberstrutspushagainstanoldgrave ofcorrodingcastirondrains brittleandstrong,nestledinthevintage grimeofadeepbrickgroove. Apistoloffearhangsinthehollows.
Thegirlinthefilmshopsmiles
likeshecanseethebestofme throughmyfissuredshell. IdemandArtHousetoimpress andshehandsmeTheTurinHorse life'sunutterabledarkness.
Icanhearthecemetery'sglacialwaves crack,twistandtoppleasImove towardsthebrownmedicine thatdripsfromtaps-clichédsalvation profferedfromveinedcheeks.
IglimpseJoseffatthebar hisfaceslippedfromaclassicmould Hungshoulders,darkbrow benttobaccoandasparrowhug. HislivelypitsofCatalonianeyes cannotforgiveme.
On,ontoRene'sshop.Outofthegreys Ihearthesoundofhercalmlake Iseeherbigstitcheddress
herdeepblackhaircurtains herbonedustfeatures. Followingthefriendlyrippleofher Scandinavianvowelsounds Imovecloserintoherwinter amustyfoldofvelvetandfur. LeathercoatsflapasIcirclein onhersilversandlips.I’mhovering vertiginouslyoverherdarkeyes treacherousbehindfashionistaglasses.
