Notes from a small island
A weblog by Jonathan Ali

Monday, August 25, 2003  

Early last evening I was returning home from a walk when I perceived, in the newly-fallen darkness, a woman standing by the street lamp a few paces from my apartment. As I got closer I recognised her as the woman who, on most evenings, could be found under that street lamp. I often see her, as I come and go. Most of the time she's just there, waiting; on occasion a vehicle pulls up, and she leans over to speak to the driver; sometimes she'll get in, sometimes not.

We know each other by sight, this woman and I, often casting each other glances, but we had never spoken to one another before. Last evening as I approached, however, she turned from the street, her face swathed in shadow, to look directly at me. Instinctively I slowed my pace. In a voice that was surprisingly high-pitched she said: "Mind how you walking there." She pointed to the ground. "Bottle."

I looked down. Just in front of me a large Coke bottle lay jaggedly broken, in large pieces.

"Thanks," I said, and side-stepped the hazard. I walked past, and she turned to face the street once again. A few hours later when I went to put out the garbage, she was still there.

posted by Jonathan | 8:58 AM 0 comments


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