Beginnings: A Sense of Place
Two am on New Years day. The odd drunken part goer making their way home through the deserted streets. The fireworks, all finished, just their smoke hangs in the air. The New Year has finally arrived bringing with it new beginnings, a time for change. The old year hurries out the back door as she sits quietly in the dark, watching the Christmas tree lights twinkle.
"Ashes to ashes,funk to funky." Bianca sings as she hurtles down the motorway. Her hair blowing behind her like a jet stream. The car windows wound down fully to take advantage of this close August day.
The tube was packed as usual and Val had to stand. Her feet ached, her husband had told her this morning that she'd regret wearing those heels to work.
The man lay on the bed, half way between life, and death. His mother sat on the hard wooden chair next to him and sobbed quietly. The room was stark. A bed, small bedside cupboard, and the chair, now occupied by the plump blubbering woman. The smell of disinfectant was overpowering, masking the sweet scent of the tulips she was holding.
The rain splashed onto the road, rebounding onto my stockined legs as I walked the short distance from the crematorium to the large hole that had been dug for you .
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