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[Sep. 24th, 2013|03:34 pm] |
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The view from here has a twisting aeroplane trail shooting above the electricity plant and leaving a widening meandering tail out beyond the thick pencil lead of the underside of a fleet of clouds which sweep to the horizon. Below in the park beyond the small group of squat pylons three old guys not much older than me in old shoes and jackets potter purposefully down a track between the blocks of housing - momentum stronger than the failing of bodily cohesion, they are stumbling determined to their destination. They cross the path of two young daughters, thin and pale and in humpula pink, of a lanky 6 footer pushing a rotting cupboard on improvised wheels. Out by the shop marked Partika they meet who... yeah, that's the who one was getting it in the neck from the pardeveja yesterday. "Piizdec, what do you want? You are stinking the place out! What about some cheese? You want some cheese, bled. I'm serving him - (she says reacting to the readiness of my eyebrows) This? 45 centimes. See: he knows what he wants!" |
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