This occurs when you don’t have anything on your mind. You've stopped worrying about every thing around you. you forget you left the washing out, you don’t bother to put a heater on because you can stay warm under the bed covers. There is no doctor to visit Catch up with a friend for coffee? Can wait for another day. Check the letter box? Nobody writes any more. Some vacuuming? You swept under the table the day before. Lunch? Sit up and watch TV with a sandwich and a fruit. Water? There’s always a bottle at hand on your bedside.
You can knit outfits from yarn without looking
you can catch up stitches across rows
you can undo what you have just done
you can invent your own pattern
There are some who yarn while they knit
many sing and dance, moving about
others put it down with a sigh
only to pick it up with dreamy eyes
What of those like me whose feet punctuate the rhythm of their hands
following the cadence by keeping up to step
it is a simple beat.
Knit-Purl Step-Up with right foot
back to Knit-Purl Step-up with right foot
Lilting unto the end.
You’re trapped. You work from home and no one is checking over your shoulder you’re in charge, running the show Just send your report and you are paid, but so little! Or you choose to take a job in town where you are part of the team with back-to-back meetings while you smile to colleagues till your lips feel sore A well-paid job but you will never get your way. If sharing information is at stake yet you intend to offset the demands and maintain a balance keep your views to yourself Saving your wise opinions for an opportune time.
The shopkeeper signals her over.
’Not my turn!’ she says.
He looks to the side ‘Come on then!’
calling to the Indigenous youth he’d ignored,
who shuffles up holding some sandals.
‘You can’t afford those, he growls, ‘Pick something else’,
returning the man’s card behind the counter.
He turns to her. ‘One sunhat. Any cash with that?’
She shakes her head, enters her pin,
staring at the forlorn card on counter.
‘Cashless welfare’ he grins.
Looking up, ‘That’s better!’
She turns to see the glum youth,
standing, flipflops in hand.
she wonders how to report this power keeper.
Those who know me I suspect feel I am nostalgic that I never managed to start my own bookshop.
I’d call it a biblio-bus, but it would not run like council vans that visit people on a regular basis. It wouldn’t drop books to a random telephone booth or letterbox on the streetside.
The project consists of a long-travel journey around Australia. It aims at delivering reading matter and library resources to remote and isolated centres or schools many of whom would be indigenous communities. I would stay several weeks building a profile of what each group chose as a theme of interest. Initially I would offer encyclopaedias or magazines to complement literary texts I had brought with me. If a community had a topic of interest, like starting their own business, I would commit, in writing, to a follow-up visit within a year. I would then source information on their selected theme.
A project outline would be to first consult with centres that a reasonable size four-wheel drive can access. Then I’d recruit a team of younger volunteers as resource persons to be rotated. If I obtained permission I would consult with indigenous reading experts like Dr Anita Heiss and publishers like Magabala Books for guidance and support. Finally I would distribute the books or packages recommended to various charity groups who rather than ask donors for cash requested hard copy resources to donate to those centres.
Although I regret that I haven’t planned this project yet, I believe I was not ready to implement an inclusive strategy in my earlier days. I used to encourage people to read in an abstract capacity. Providing literature for a project is a better model which can benefit from life experience.
The major drawback I suspect is the delay factor. However I think that even the younger people may well wait a few months for thorough resources. They may even pass their passion onto their siblings and form an elder-focused group to develop a plan of action for their project.
Am I nostalgic? I am more of an optimist. I believe now is a good time for me to make this dream come true. From the people’s viewpoint it may be it’s never too late to make things happen.
but I don’t like to study them. I know gestures,
posture or gait can indicate varied personalities.
I understand some traits like the eyes, the nose
or the mouth might be inherited.
Is there a view that our body shape
could affect our development
as an individual? I don’t
know that either.
For an insight
into my fellow
humans I rely
only on intuition.
No study needed.
When we meet
I start talking with
them. By chance
we open on topics
common to us.
Either we hit it off
or we don’t.
‘Others? Hell is really us’ in French
Les Autres? L’enfer c’est vraiment nous en réfutant la phrase de Sartre #lenfercestlesautres Notre triste hiver Australien l’horrible saison de pandémie fait place à une lumière lumineuse les grisailles et confinements aux ciels d’azur. Action! L’apéro, dîner avec amis et un spectacle ou deux. Musique! Les bruits des tambours nous font sortir et danser; du monde partout, personne n’est laissé de côté. On fait face à de nouvelles aventures. Les véhicules commencent à dégorger du carburant, Et les avions déversent leurs vapeurs sur nous. On a gaspillé l’eau On a ignoré la validité du changement climatique Et engendré des feux de brousse La menace des vents et feux approche. L’enfer, c’est vraiment nous.
Communication was difficult
due to lack of facilities in a prison.
Prisoners were sometimes refused
pen, paper or envelopes.
Some of the duty officers could be punitive
or unwilling to act.
In the education centre, tutors often worked around that:
pulled out pages, force- scribbled pens,
Student prisoners sometimes came back with
other times with a letter for which they needed
They said they could buy stamps but the shop had
Last night my dream became
a prison administrator’s nightmare.
a gross of envelopes.
Every prisoner who wanted could send letters!
Mindfulness Definitely in the moment. Legs crossed and back straight! I close my eyes and concentrate. Rock music, not the Beatles, Pop Songs. I push that thought aside. A shard of light. Beachside sunsets will defeat all blinds. I breathe in, then out for two extra counts. In with the sea smell, out with rock pulses. Breathing in the musical rhythms, holding and breathing out the warm sunlight. I let go. Vagueness of thoughts and sounds merge in the lull of the van where I sit on a mat, on the edge of a crowded caravan park. I’m ready to party.
Flash Fiction100 word series
At the start of the pandemic we were all concerned about health.
International politics came to the fore of my preoccupations when the British Prime Minister tested positive for Coronavirus.
Later he said his survival had been ‘Touch and go’. He had praise for two nurses: one from the Atlantic Coast of Portugal and one from New Zealand, supposedly the triumph of the British National Health Services.
Britain involved the whole world to save him. Like his people, he’s a worldwide citizen.
An absolute lack of logic to Brexit – there’s no further way out for him; Brexin Johnson’s his nickname.
‘Mother Hen’ was one of her nicknames.
Over years she nurtured her children. When a grandmother, she was called a ‘helicopter mum’. It wasn’t just children she fussed around.
At work she embraced the younger folk under her…
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