Monday, June 15, 2009

Bezdomny

Closing his eyes he watched the cinema projected on the inside of his forehead; squiggly lines and dots, flashes of electricity, purple and yellow, orange and red scalding the inside of his eye sockets, a kaleidoscope of pastels and oils, greasepaint and shoeblack, a Craiova of intense colour.

The Chelmsford Essex Women’s Auxiliary collect donated shoes, raffling them off in the church basement on Wednesday afternoons between 1 and 5. The women’s auxiliary consider themselves God’s cobblers, and see no reason why a man need go about shoeless, especially when there are so many unwanted shoes in the world.
Every year following the Feast of the Blessed Shepherd the sky falls, gray clouds filling in the blackness like ship’s sails. Lela met Bezdomny behind the swimming shed behind the aqueduct, the shed built from wooden planks and doweling. The shed towered above the trees, the trees casting shadows on the swimmers swimming, white bellies breaking the waves.

Every third Sunday the Bathgate Women’s Auxiliary have a picnic for the West Lothian orphanage in the park behind the aqueduct. The children arrive by oxcart, wagon, pushcart and on foot; some, the French-speaking children and a few Algerian waifs, under guard of the OAS (Secret Army Organisation), others free to go wherever they please.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz

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