1. Pinkish and surrounded by brand new wire netting, the surface of the tennis court is already sinking into the mud, so that the drainage channels around it, which are still to be filled in, look more like the remains of a half-hearted rescue attempt.
2. Someone has scratched the mileage off the nearby road signs, as if to hide the town or perhaps deny its existence. Self-abnegation, a complex act of defiance: we are not here for you. We are not here at all.
3. Looking through the lacework of a broken wall you see a man standing in the sun at a baking road junction, holding a pane of glass which has broken directly across, half in each hand, while he stares emptily into the distance through the heavy summer traffic. A woman with a buggy stands near him but ignores him. She might be with him or not.
4. Complete the following sentences: (a) They had once been nice little houses, half-timbered and with tall, elegant, steeply-pitched roofs. Now, trapped between the sewage works and the railway line, they… (b) New build was going up all around them. Soon they would be encysted. People would look at their Queen Anne chimneys and wonder what things had been like before…
Still reading: Collected Short Stories, Lydia Davis. Happily anticipating: The Immortalisation Commission: Science and the Strange Quest to Cheat Death, John Gray. Watching: Of Unknown Origin, Edwin Rostron (inspired by Raymond Cass‘s strange quest to eavesdrop the hidden messages of the dead). Eating: lentil soup & cold Greek pie.