You wake to hear it hammering on the window like an unwelcome guest.
You think, “Oh dear, I won’t be able to hang the washing outside.”
You don’t think, “Oh good, it’s providing water that enables me to do the washing.”
Perhaps you should.
ark7:20
Only three cars on the whole floor.
I get out, click the button. The beep echoes.
I walk to the trolleys in the semi-dark, trying to ignore the smell, or at least to pretend I don’t recognise it.
8:30
Same semi-dark area.
I guide a heavy trolley between the cars to the boot of mine.
I smell car fumes. It seems better than what I smelled before.
Lettuce leaves, still green, no longer edible.
Grapefruit peel, still yellow.
Orange peel, still orange.
Broccoli stalk, still green.
Onion peel, still identifiable.
What lies underneath is no longer identifiable. It has metamorphosed into something else – something that can be useful again.
What about us? We have no use below ground, but we can make a huge difference above. Most of us don’t. What a shame!
Six steps descend to the small, empty café. Four round tables with chairs. Large windows through which diners can watch passers by and passers by can watch diners. One long table with a high bench, covered with a material that’s patterned and colourful – reds, greens. The counter is bare except for a coffee machine and a till.
“Small stones,” she says. “It’s a lovely way of helping you to notice things around you, but I notice too much.”
Eyes drooping.
Brain wandering.
Trying to write, but…..
Clothes hanging on clothes horse on balcony.
Trousers, shirts, socks, pants, sheets.
Greens, blues, whites, blacks, reds.
Gently swaying as they dry.
What if it was raining? Would they get wet?
No, silly. If it was raining, they wouldn’t be there.
But what if…
| Dawn: | Black clouds frame a black tree growing out of the building. |
| Day: | The tree is green. The tree is behind the building. The clouds have gone. They probably weren’t black, anyway. |
New bed
New blanket
New sheet
New curtains
New flowers
New TV
New day
New year
New me
You probably know what goes on in November – how certain crazy (or dedicated) people go into hibernation for a month and come out on the first of December with a whole novel. Now there’s something similar to NaNoWriMo, called NaSmaStoMo. During the month of January, certain crazy people will create a small stone every day, and it seems I’m going to be one of them. The badge on the right says so.
What are these stones?
From the River of Stones website: “A small stone is a polished moment of paying proper attention.” It’s a scene, described after taking care to notice all the details.
I’m not expecting this to be easy, but I’m going to give it a go. Hopefully it’ll teach me to pay more attention to what’s going on around me. If you want to join in, the details are here.
This project is the brainchild of Fiona Robyn and her fiancé, Kaspa.
Miriam Drori, Author