Our Street.

It was a long, lively street, I rememember. The road itself was tar-sealed and cambered; alongside were rows of drooping power poles and telephone lines that sagged in the middle as if weighed down by so many conversations; a black-and-white crossing got me to the other side. There were bright colours floating around outside on the old, wooden houses that had red or blue shingle roofs and usually pure white walls. The cracked footpaths ledfrom home to school, two different and separate worlds for a child; The wide grass verges often needed mowing, but it was not a no-exit, one-way street. -8 January,2015.