this is monday.
thin melodies flow through open back doors, harmonising with the whir of the vacuum cleaners. bins wait – alternating black and yellow, while piles of trash and insulation, coat hangers and old television sets still line the lane-way. this is monday.
the roads are made narrower by the weeds reaching across the tar. bricks have fallen, concrete has divided and old places feel like nothing now that nobody is home. this is monday on the sweet street.
a woman stands in her pyjamas, barefooted by her washing line. her baby is sitting in the grass beside her as she hangs washing from her wicker basket. this is not just monday – this is life.
these things are not exciting or important but they are the wholesome and undeniable basics for us here – even on the sweet side.