Monday, May 10, 2010

Little Flinders

Standing on Little Flinders street, they make a striking pair.

The younger of the two, perhaps nine or ten years old, wears bright green shoes and a peaked cap with propellor on top. It is Thursday morning, and I wonder why he is not at school. The older man wears weary shoulders, a heavy leg bandage and explorer socks without shoes.

They stand by an unmarked pair of glossy black double doors, opening straight onto the street. There is no plaque or letterbox. Who knows its business?

Explorer socks bends to hear young green shoes speak. He nods, and turns his mouth up at the edges. They do not appear to be waiting for anything, or anyone. They simply stand companionably, side by side.

Minutes pass. The hustle of suits brush past them, barely offering a second glance, despite the outlandish costumes. Occasionally Explorer socks raises his eyes to the building rising directly above the cafe in which I am sitting.

Space and time to watch and spend is a gift rarely enjoyed.

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