Chipped paint, vanishing in the dusk,
an old sign announces its importance: WATER IS LIFE.
an old sign announces its importance: WATER IS LIFE.
A crack.
Rusted and unpatched, the tanker leaks.
Water dribbles and escapes; no one seems to notice.
A pool.Rusted and unpatched, the tanker leaks.
Water dribbles and escapes; no one seems to notice.
Forms, fills, then overflows on the ground.
It spills into the street, as more water tumbles on top.
If water is life, then what is this?
A rivulet.
Breaks away, sparkling under headlights.
Forges a path down the hill, only to be smashed by spinning tires.
Forges a path down the hill, only to be smashed by spinning tires.
A life.
Silhoutted against the neon glare, I see
this tiny frame hunched between petrol pumps under a basket of bananas.
Silhoutted against the neon glare, I see
this tiny frame hunched between petrol pumps under a basket of bananas.
A child.
She watches my approach, lifts her gaze, hopes I will stop.
I don't know how to tell her, this life is leaking and spilling beyond control.
But, I stop.
We say nice things.
She smiles.
I buy some bananas,
and
the fruit is sweet.
A light.
In the darkness, a stream trickles past.
Small and courageous, undeterred by traffic and tires, it is still shining in the night.
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