An eager crowd of pipes newly uprooted beside some roadworks.
Under the portico, outside the front door of a house in Mount Sion, sits a bare foot man.. He is leaning backwards, almost lying down. Between the pillars at the top of the steps, his toes protrude, white and inquisitive.
An elderly man in a purple shirt stands on his own in the middle of The Grove. He is playing a harmonica to himself. The sound barely reaches the path where I am standing. It drifts across to me in the wind, plaintive and lonely.
2 comments:
Love your description of the pipes....
There's a marine parallel with those pipes. Certain types of organisms attach theselves to rocks and allow their mouths to wander in the currents. The pipes look plaintive.
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