a loving tribute to my city

A girl’s head shakes with the bus’ window as she leans sideways to read a bright pink book, just in front of me. I stare at the little shapes on her hooded top until I realise that they’re little people walking, moving, writhing and have to look away, out the streaky window at the traffic lights and a green, walking man. Later, somebody steps off the tram and I notice the words on the back of their green pants are saying “Mekon Delta”. »

what’s your name?

i’ve been all sorts of things. a helper, a listener, a doer, a lender, a friend, a student, a worker. a traveller. a worrier. but what now? i’m not a photographer. i’m not a writer. the future’s uncertain, as ever. i strive to be useful but i fear it’s not enough. »

in the way

I tried to wander, I tried to think. Instead, I found myself assailed by the sight of a careless driver nearly running over an old man who had the temerity to board a tram on a busy street. Why do people change when they sit in their little metal boxes on wheels? So angry, so awful and so impatient. »

hands

Step forward but not too fast dodge people walking toward you wave away mr street vendor fiddle with headphones skip a few tracks stop for a drink drop some change for the buskers. all this silent interaction is killing me. »