Suburbs. Tarseal. Houses. The places we live at night and hide inside in the day time. Haze covers the stars at sunset and the birds sleep late in the mornings. The moon hangs in the day time alongside the sun. Tonight the moon is full. Is the moon full on your side of the world? Is it the same everywhere?
The trees are planted. Solitary sentries for decoration outside the fenced, locked, curtained castles behind the shiny cars.
Silver birch trees are bare but covered with promise of new life. Waiting for spring.
I caught a lot of photos of the moon on this walk – it was visible from everywhere, it wasn’t one of those low moons that swings sideways across the horizon behind the roofs.
The moon is a small white circle. In real life it is large, grey and full of craters. Camera can never truly see what we do.
The silver birches are trees I will remember forever. When I was the sick eight year old staring outside with nothing else to do, watching the trees waving and making shapes out of the branches. When I was the grown-up ten year old left alone in my room to do school work, absently watching the tree while my brain repeats the sum over and over pretending to work it out, but really only making it meaningless. The branches that fell off in the big storm and died. Life goes on.
To our horror there is now a cell phone repeater very near to where we live.
Walking around there is a new spike over the houses, rivalling the palm trees I am not even sure are still there.
This photo was fuzzy by accident. I took a clearer one but then, as I reviewed them this morning I decided I liked this one better for some reason.
The moon stares amidst the lonely blue and the metal spike is cold and unfeeling. It does it’s job.
Aren’t they everywhere. We rely on them for so much. Everybody, everbody hears if they’re down even if you live in the next town. If the power is off for more than a few hours we start to wonder what’s going on. It’s a disaster for shops such as butchers. They lose millions because they have nowhere to put the massive amounts of meat.
Once in town we walked from the bus depot up one side of the street to work and all these shops were so obviously power-cut – some were dark, some had signs up. Trendy young hairstylists grinned at us from their imposing counter, flashing a torch. The entire side of the street was cut off. It soon, of course, came back on. I’m thinking it was not to do with power lines – there aren’t often many in the city, I think they’re mostly underground. But that’s power for you.
Remember stormy nights we stayed up unable to sleep because of the lightning. I played cards with my brother. Last Card it was. Another thing I’ll never forget. The cards slipped over the sleeping bag as we shifted on the bed we were using as a sofa.
The power was off suddenly. Mum brings out the candle and tells us to be careful and we say, we will, we will. The room is pitch black and mysterious. We lay, wide awake in the dark, counting the number of seconds from the lightning flash to the thunder, and making Lightning Charts to write it all down. We argued if it was nine miles or ten or how are you supposed to count it anyway, don’t we use kilometers?
More Suburban to be posted soon. Things to remember. Staring up at the ugly heads of the power lines, the loose wires, speculating on that buzzing sound, and the birds nesting in the transformer box. Children’s laughter.
– Tarina of Radioactive Eyeball