My Santiago

Fleeting Images (December, 1993 Gold Coast)

Men in shorts, Bare of foot and torso, Congregate and pursue nonchalant conversations - leading nowhere – grateful only for evening breezes; Welcome respite from the day’s sullen heat. A family by a roadside motel, - Bessa block monolith – play cricket in the cramped confines of the driveway. All I glimpse is the awkward roll, ungainly roll of a shoulder, blur of white arm, The adolescents, Squatters by the lake, Lean – the lull before the inevitable spread – and brown, from endless sun hours, running, swimming; Absorbed in their interminable fun! The old man, Sparse of frame, Spruce and walking with deliberate stride, Enjoying the ritual of an evening promenade, sampling the world at its best hue. and flash of swinging bat! Then the bus lurches on…

I watch images, from my seat in this old bus, Fleeting yet lasting, in my memory.

Images of lives distant, Yet somehow intimate with mine!