you’re about to leave
You’re looking down a narrow street from a square. It’s a steep street, falling suddenly out of view & only reappearing half its length away. The housefronts are hung with signs & lamps. A dove flies from one window ledge to another across the street, first dipping down steeply, then recovering & rising, its body held vertically so that it seems to climb the air. For a moment before alighting it is less a bird than an action which, suspended against the tramwires, the wrought iron balconies, the dirty pastel walls, tells the truth about not just these things but everything. Shortly afterwards the street fills up with teenagers. The boys, already anxious and desperate, clutch at the girls & try to guide them. The girls remain distant, their agendas, though clear, unspoken. From now on this relationship will not change. They will end up like an image in the Paula Rego House of Stories.