Friday, 19 February 2016

A Door Distant - (the archive backlog 27)

city, also distant


Bedroom.

Old lady, asleep. Mouth open.
Her skin pallid.
Thin.

Corridor.
Carpet, quiet: serenity.

Activity in the kitchen.

A street.

A car.
A road.
Trees autumn, leaf fall.

A station.
A ticket machine.
A car park.

Puddles, train arriving, departing.

Interior of train; abandoned newspapers.
Out of the window, memories.
Old home town.
The city.

People walking down the stairs.
People walking up.

The city streets.

A touch of rain.

St Paul’s.

Fleet street.
A bar.
A booth.
Food.

People arrive.
Noise.
A party.

Old friends.

A corner.

An older man; hearing aids.

Noise.

Eyes.
Cataracts.
A blur.

A taxi.

A train.

Goodbyes.

And somewhere, far away, a door in the back of a car waits for another life.



No comments:

Follow by Email