I often pass the first house I lived in here. 45 Gensing Rd. It was a mess inside but it was quaint and exciting to be away from the blandness of the long uniform street where we lived in Leyton; to be transplanted into the glamour of the far from uniform streets in lower St Leonards. The special feature of this house was the large grey pebble-rendered fascia, now a prim white. The house has gone up in the world. In our time the local drug dealer lived next door. It wasn’t like today. He was well respected. For some reason what he did never impinged on us and he ran his “business” in an orderly fashion…though once in a while he would go loopy and hurl things over into our garden, which, when he’d calmed down, we’d throw back.
In the park I am enchanted by the dog daisies that have fully dilated since I last saw them. They lean eagerly towards the path like a crowd waiting for a parade to pass. We are the parade and they stare at us with their intense yellow irises.
I am struck by the light today and the contrast. It is as if everything has been sharpened by a whetting stone, the edges of leaves and blades of grass glistening with bright attention. I can’t stop looking everywhere. I am a child again.. and then a man quite blindly walks into me out of nowhere. I feel my hackles rise. How dare he! I see he isn’t really “there” and my anger slides back to where it came from. I am reminded these are strange times with a dark story lurking out of sight, nothing to do with the beauty of this day.
I take a photo of my shadow.
