0013 | small things, not to be lost

Twenty quiet, near-black seconds before a fluorescent tube winks into life. One or two strobes of half-intense light flare the room into view, before everything suddenly becomes illuminated in stinging white light. | Loosening an unmarked postage stamp from a square of envelope and watching it cut clean through the water in the kitchen sink; not floating, but knifing through the water and then helicoptering down to the bottom. | Finding and retrieving a white plastic fork from where it had fallen, behind the desk. | A pigeon limping around on the pavement a few feet in front of where I walk; a knot of scarred flesh at the base of its leg like a ball of wax around the end of a dying candle. | Blowing little scrapes of foil onto the floor. | Reading my name, written by someone else’s hand: the writing seems familiar but it is my own name that I almost don’t recognise.

Reader Comments

  1. once again, your ability to write with such precise detail is wonderful gift. i found myself squinting waiting for the non buzzing, buzzing light to turn on.

  2. Kavey:
    I’m glad these intrigue; I plan for there to be more of these Fragments. I hope that these brief sentences, with nothing to lead in or out, can resonate just as loudly.

    Nadia:
    Thanks Nadia. I have lost many hours of my life waiting for those lights!

    OpinionsToGo:
    Thank you Joanne, what a lovely thing to say. There are a few other writers – novelists and bloggers – who carry this transforming of the ordinary off with such aplomb and do it so well, so I’m flattered you see it in my writing.

  3. Sydney:
    Apologies: I meant to thank you personally for your comment here a long time ago. I’m stoked that you enjoyed this so much.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *