Small Stones July 28-31

July 28

The building is silent and ghostly, the painted white exterior beginning to colour and peel. The workers and machinery are gone. The delivery bays are empty and the shutters down. What was once a bustling factory is now a shell waiting for a new purpose, a new beginning.

July 29

I try to shake myself from a low mood. A friend’s visit brings memories of the past. We dredge old problems and take held positions.  It is sad and uncomfortable and he does not understand. I am reminded of what I had and what I lost. It takes me back to a dark place which I had no desire to return to.

July 30

The earth is hard as I dig in with the spade. I pull at the roots of weeds but they refuse to yield.  The shrubs stand out in the setting evening sunlight as if they are on fire.

July 31

Mountain bikes of all nationalities hurtle down the hill at breakneck speed on the new Olympic course. Front suspensions push down then up as the bikes leap into the air then land back on the dusty trail. The leader speeds off into the distance leaving the rest to fight over the other places. Many do not last the race and are eliminated. Finally the victor rides home out of sight of his competitors to take the top place on the podium. In twelve months time, he will probably be the new Olympic champion.


About Peter Domican
Marketer and change professional. Writer and photographer.

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