Author: isobel cunningham
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As as I went to the Metro today I spotted what looked like an ambulance decorated with graffiti. My curiosity promoted me to go over and investigate. I was greeted by two enthusiastic young people who explained that they were doing a little outreach for their organization: Urgence Emploi.…
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But look closer. It says je t’aimne. The apostrophe is backwards too. Je t’aime. I love you. Everyone knows that. And who made this for me? Little Amine. Little Amine of the passionate heart, of the temper, of cuddles so close that we share breath. He made an anagram of his…
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Now that all the Christmas stuff has been banished from the grocery store ( you know, it’s a big store that sells clothes and dishes and toys as well as actual food) it’s time to move on. There were a few straggling artificial branches of firs with cones or holly-looking things I couldn’t clearly…
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The snow so soft, how many flakes tiny and insignificant yet muffling the city’s roar to a kindly purr. The flakes sparkling by some trick of chemistry, bonding together or sitting at an angle one from another and reflecting the light on the hood of the little car. But everywhere the glistening…
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That’s what they used to say to us in school. What a useful phrase! Awkward questions, objections, arguments against nonsense were quickly silenced with this phrase. It had the added virtue of reinforcing our image as possessers of “little”knowledge. Those who spoke to us in that way, naturally held much knowledge, and…
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It is is a little hard to stand witness over the follies of the city. Season after season they come to admire us or to joke at our grave gaze. Oh, we are revered and shown off by the guides. Outside the city museum.…
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Although not not blessed with beauty yet the street is beautiful. humble, work-a-day, utilitarian. small homes with their steps to the upper floors, the tiny front enclosures standing straight to face The other side of the beautiful street. Although not blessed with beauty, there are trees planted by the city under the…
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So here we go – sidewalks like skating rinks, car doors frozen ( no worries, I am used to getting in by the hatchback which thank heavens has never frozen on me yet). What did I see on my wandering in the city yesterday? People slithering around in running shoes, people braving 60…
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Being thirsty, the good feel of water drunk from a bottle in gulps, thoughtlessly. A little later urinating, washing with scented soap and rinsing. Damp hands rubbing a moist eye. The sharp taste of lemon, the flow of saliva A kiss, the taste of that mouth, the misty breath mingled with mine. The…
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How odd that I decided to write about water as a theme this month and, here we are, freezing rain! I went out to break into my dear little red car. It was encased in ice. Surprisingly the doors opened. In my day I have clambered in by the hatch back. There was…
