pose doll art

 Today's squirrel. Alive and thinking what to do next.

On the armrest of a bench  in The Grove stands a doll with a life-like baby face, a pink dress and tiny stockinged feet. It is quite alone, forgotten, sad and disturbing.

In the street I pass a neighbour hauling some sort of trolley. "All the way back from my art class," she says  indicating a big plastic bag strapped to the frame. "Oils," I say for want of anything else to say.  "It's so heavy," she says.