Friday, 14 March 2014

A fourteenth archival element of the year.

Archival remnant no 13. catalogue no MX 7500

There ‘s a truck on the motorway, driving through the early morning fog.
It is heading south out of this city, carrying someone’s home to someplace else.
The rest of us are going nowhere.
Though some call it work.
And we are paid for our effort.
In the car behind the truck there is a young woman.
She is wearing a woollen hat; the car heater can’t be working so well.
Her eyes don’t really see the truck; they are fixed on someplace else.
Which may not exist, but she wishes that it did.
In front of me there is another woman driving.
She is looking in the mirror at her lipstick and she reaches for some in the bag on the seat alongside her.
She checks her eyes and adds some mascara.
She doesn’t see me watching.
She is waiting for an invitation to someplace else.
We won’t get there.
Isn’t all this pointless?

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