Jan 2011

A day spent going nowhere.
We all need those days sometimes.
Tomorrow, I start moving again.

While walking, I hear many accents and languages, and see many colours.
Where I live, I sense these things, too.
But there, I don’t remark on them because I’m used to them.
Here, I do because London has changed since  I lived here.
The outsider notices more.

I feel guilty for not feeling the way I’m expected to feel.
They say it must be so hard and they’re all so sorry.
But I felt those feelings five years ago,
When no one said how sorry they were.
It’s not that I’m uncaring, just that I’ve got past that stage.

Straight from a house that’s much too hot to one that’s rather cold. I prefer the cold one. In winter, I expect to feel cold.


The coach navigates the narrow-laned London streets.
We pass Harrods, the Victoria and Albert, Hammersmith.
Outside London, rows of pretty houses.
England is always the same, or is it?
The seatbelt holds me in a tight grip.
Mobile phones ring, and conversations, too:
“We went to this restaurant last night. It was shit.”
“I should arrive about four ten.”
No, changes are everywhere. They happen with or without me.


Certificates, shopping bills, photographs, letters, birthday cards, advertisements, special offers, concessions. It’s amazing how much stuff you can find in one old woman’s home.


I threw earth on my mother today.
Three times, I shovelled earth onto a spade and let it fall onto a wooden box deep, deep down.
Rest in peace, Mum. Your memory is blessed.


Family photographs

Mum at 60, Mum at 95, Mum at 21, Mum at 14.
Dad, never younger than 45.
Grandma getting married or as an old lady.
“That little girl is L.” “No! It’s me!”
“Who’s that?” Nobody knows. Someone lost in the past.
A whole generation has just disappeared.

A vast expanse of white.
Greyish in parts.
Clouds seen from above.


Yes, I took a plane this morning on my way to my mother’s funeral.

Unfortunately, I won’t be able to post a small stone every day because I won’t always have an Internet connection. But I’ll continue to write them.


When you look back and think of all the sights that have changed, all the things that have happened, it’s comforting to see something that has remained the same. The monster has seen it all.

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