The pictures are real, taken in our flat or on a recent walk.
The words are fairy-tale.
Now, where shall we begin? Oh yes…
Three people walk into a bar that we went past during our walk today. Three men in striped shirts. We saw them in the doorway, against the patterned mirrors, stamping their feet as they made their way in.
One of them, nearly tripping over the curled corner of the oriental patterned rug, bumped into the umbrellas by the doorway and sent them scattering.
The clatter got the attention of the people in the bar, who turned to look at the man at the entrance. He smiled apologetically, embarrassed at the unexpected attention. He noted the ladies who seemed to have some unspoken colour code in their dress.
They soon returned to their conversation.
The three men seated themselves at a table by the window. They placed their orders. He turned to look out the window. The scene outside was overcast and dull.
Suddenly, the man who never paid attention to bright colours missed the cheer of his former girlfriend in frills and floral prints.
But all he saw out the window was a nondescript woman walking an equally ordinary-looking mongrel. And both were looking distracted.
He sighed. No use thinking about the ex.
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She was contemplating patterns. And light and shadow. Probably an influence by Lens and Pens by Sally. And so she snapped some equally nondescript images of the path she and the dog were on. Patterns that perhaps got repeated in other cities in other countries. The pattern of foliage silhouettes on concrete, the repeated twists of the fence, the weave of leaves in and out of it.
The pattern of the tiled path, its brick borders and the drain covers that make up the very fabric of this corner of existence.
And the columns of the sheltered walkway, as they lined themselves until the end of the path. A regular pattern of columns that unfortunately gave dogs plenty of opportunities to discover and enjoy, and cats to hide behind as they continued their way down the path.
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The woman stopped and fiddled with her phone for a while. The dog sat as she squatted unglamourously by the side of the path, pointing her phone at something. But then the dog nosed into her viewfinder perhaps. She looked surprised and stunned. It took a few seconds before she suddenly made for the dog’s muzzle, prised it opened and looked into its maw. The man has never seen that happen with anyone before but it was obvious that it was not the first time she did that.
“What are you looking at?”
The man turned back to his two friends.
“Nothing,” he said, “Ah, the drinks are here.”
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She was contemplating macro, until the dog ate the subject.
Oh well, the shots aren’t really macro-macro anyway. And the experiment ended rather unfortunately for the Cupid’s Shaving Brush. She thought she would try again some time later in the week. Guess cupid will have to shave another day.
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“*Ahem*, is this seat taken?”
The three man looked up to see a young man, unshaven, blinking down at them.
“Do you mind if we share a table? Every other table is full.”
“Sure,” his friend replied, although he sounded a bit unsure.
The man could have sworn that he saw the slight flicker of luminescent wings as the young man sat down among them.
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Outside, the wind grew strong as it danced roughly around the trees and the bushes along the empty path. But nobody noticed.
Note: The first and last image are photos taken of the prints in the flat. Copyright of the actual design and prints belong to Samantha Hahn and Wun Ying.
Note2: I was thinking of a movie title as I wrote this.
