Monday, 24 August 2009

The colour red

I am lying on my back in the park just where the sun cracks on the tree. It is windy so the light keeps going on/off on my face. I look up between the other trees that give way to one another down the slope, either side of the path. The black kite is up again. It's white trailers fluttering, unevenly cut, in the wind. when I get up to walk diagonaly over the grass until I am finally back on the path, I need to step over the string. I follow the string through with my eyes over to the green lawn in the middle where the kite is now laid out. Looking down the grassy slope where I stand watching the trains go past one another in the distance there is a man carrying a bed on his head by the side of the canal. I think of the colour red when I think of him but cannot remember if the colour is from his shirt or shorts. People are playing tennis down in the courts. It seems slower than would actually be possible in order to keep the ball in motion. Maybe that has something to do with the low lying sun sinking through the trees. Now that I think of it I think the colour red comes from one of those players down there, not the man with the bed hoisted up over his shoulders after all.

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