ju444od的部落格

As I accept here, gazing fur the toll road since me, I descry an aged man in the freedom above the store, looking out the window, in my itinerary. As he surveys the labouring motorway below him, it is unconcealed he is searching for something or causal agency in the host.

It is the centre of the daytime as the elevated sun is beaming its hot pale downstairs into the metropolis. A dry flow of air has kicked up debris and dirt, moving through with the corridors of lanes and streets.

A man, his extremity on his hat to secure it, is close toward me, a broadsheet beneath his arm and a teenaged juvenile person at his tenderloin. Head bent down, the boy is touring forward, munition swingy in tread near his thick stride, trying to keep hold of up beside the man.

Under a blind right the storefront, a dog sits. Happy for the temperature change shade, he is easygoing to watch the passersby.

Her backbone to me, a girlish woman tiered seats on the corner, ready for assemblage to spare out up to that time she crosses the intersection point.

The air preceding is the neutral gray of a fiery summertime day, and even the ducks that present action to the sky are stagnant.

I have a questing worry and I can't sustain inquisitive what the aged man is looking for? Or asking myself where the man and minor are headed, and to what purpose?

As to the female near her rear to me, I can single surmise if she makes it undamagingly to the contrasting loin of the motorway.

And, whose dog is it that waits and watches from the shadows?

Before I bend away, I glance a old female person active to go in the mail organization. She carries no container. Her keeping are in the pockets of her summertime frock. Is she going inside to deciding up a packet or note from a treasured one?

What I have seen, will be, and is, an eye into the future-a fugitive air of permanency.

There is so much go in a fixed shot, captured in a box. Suspended done the decades; it allows utter strangers a uncertainty to part that moment, clicked done the lens of a camera.

Unsuspecting, those in the picture could not have guessed that a personality would be inquisitive almost them, lots years in the wished-for.

A slip of time, sepia-hued, tended through with the years, and displayed-that I might fix your eyes on into it . . . and mull over.

Copyright 2006 by Kathy Pippig Harris