Twisted Ornaments
Here -
Where...seagulls congregate to share daytime information..
Where...mudless lanes fracture industry and metal..
Where...cold slab chipped rock fountains are smiling and love struck...
Where...glitter ball glamour is boarded and gig postered..
Where...glass shadows stretch into shoeless avenue..
is the place language comes to die.
* * *
Six Month Empty Paper Towns: small communities peopled only by those left behind...nowadays, as far as I can tell, an increasingly older and more reflective group of resilient residents who are daily learning to cope with emptiness and lean times...I can only ever be a visitor to these places, but I am always struck/horrified/bewildered by the underlying despair/bitterness of the conversations...
* * *
In my own local community - an hours walk shows all the shades and shapes...the movers...the shakers...the chancers...the winners...the losers of the area...Some are clearly falling between the cracks...the gaps that exist between each moment. Snatches of conversation. Moments of aggression. One day this. One day that.
* * *
I am drawn to the loneliness of busy places ...the emptiness of crowded places...what is happening is not on the margins of the community...something has gone is missing...opportunity probably.
O ble mae'r bobl wedi Mynd? / Where have all the people Gone?
Steve Coel
