8/7/09

The flower of a British womans garden, the gladioli, in bloom, in Summer has more dominion on earth than me.At least its outside.
I saw a woman today, who reminded me of my mother, and another who reminded me of my Grandmother. my mother had brown curly hair, small and petite, her face so sad. She wasn't ugly, far from it, but her soul was.
the pain, the bitterness, the rejection was illuminated in her face.
and as our eyes met. a long pool of blue sorrow, I averted my gaze, i did't want to see, her loss, her defeat, her lonliness.

my Grandmother was blond, she walked on heels, with stooped shoulders, blindly, bumping into passers-by, saying 'watch out punk or I'll kick you in'.
she'd seen life, been beaten and was into physical violence. her weapon of defence.

I saw there two women, as I carried the bags og shopping out of the supermarket. I could have been carrying their souls home. i felt so vulnerable, or my gain, their loss.