Monday, August 20, 2007

sand paper, features, surplus

The sound of sand paper on wood in the open air, and the smell of the resulting dust. A park keeper is sanding a bench in the Grove preparing it for varnish.

Someone I pass in the street has a certain look about her which is familiar to me, though I don't think I know her. It strikes me that, sometimes, you recognise, in complete strangers, features or expressions, which belong to someone you know, or used to know. There have been times when, because of such resemblances, I have been on the point of greeting someone, whom I have never seen before.

Distributing vegetables fresh from the garden to neighbours, is the nicest way of dealing with surplus.

2 comments:

Tall Girl said...

Do you mean these might be the children of people you once knew?

Plutarch said...

No, I don't mean that specifically. Though it is possible that there could be, unknown to me, some fairly close relationship of that sort. What I mean is that there seem to be certain types of features and expressions that seem to surface in people, perhaps from some remote ancestor which they have in common. But perhaps because they are part of the same "tribe"; or just that the human race throws up such likenesses, which occur like patterns in natural objects - rock faces, tree trunks,sand...