The lake isn’t in the centre of the city.
Theressa and Mela are by the lake but they
don’t live in the centre of city either. They inhabit a squat someways away in
the northeast. Their flat has no hot water and no electricity so they use
candles at night-time if they are not sleeping; to keep warm they hold each
other and sleep in the same bed.
They are not lesbians.
Since they have no electricity and can’t
afford gas if they need a hot meal they go to the café opposite and eat toast.
The toast comes ladled with tomato and garlic. And they will drink a coffee
with rum if it’s deep winter.
It is the end of winter now and the spring
comes early to this city so Theressa and Mela are by the lake. They have their
cart, which they have pushed through the early morning streets before the
neighbours awoke; it is the weekend and there is no work anyway in the
factories of the northeast.
Their cart is filled with puppets,
beautiful marionettes that they have made from waste they found among the
abandoned factories. If you were an engineer you would maybe recognise a drive
wheel here, or a sprocket there. Even if you are not an engineer you will
recognise the beauty and effort that has been put into their crafting.
Today the puppets will dance, children who
come to the lake will laugh and Theressa and Mela will make enough money to
live another week.
On Monday they will not come to the Lake.
Theressa will stay in bed, sleeping and
dreaming of her childhood.
She will show me a painting.
The painting will look dark to my eyes, not
a joyus piece but she will explain that it is her favourite from all those in
the gallery.
I will tell her that then there is no need
for me to see anymore and we will walk back to her flat.
Maybe we will make love.
Probably not.
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