The warm breeze eases my pedalling, along the harbour side I fly…Such a magnificent great ship! Hiding tales of love and despair and death and hope, all history made stagnant in its own view…Flags flapping, warm-cool breeze, sun high, a small boy walks with his grandfather, cheeky smile, sweetness, wise warming laugh protects. I see her gaze lingering on a handsome man; brown, wavy soft curls, bright eyes, T-shirt and scruffy jeans…She turns her head…and casts a smile his way…

Ahhh! Beautiful captivating lady, cropped leggings, plimsolls dancing, long braids bouncing, to her own rhythm and friend’s laughs as she drops her purse amongst distinguished cigarette ends which remember brief owners. Ears covered, muffling a deafening siren; the traffic’s intrusive snarl reminds me of my surroundings as my eyes wander at those enjoying afternoon beers on the Barge’s sunny top. Bright new architecture, all curves and colours, contrast against the bricks, those old sedentary witnesses of slaves and merchants and the rich and sick…

Refreshing open space, interesting, giant moon resting strong amongst restaurants, mothers and prams and family melodies, the interesting young, with studs and ribbons and lace and leather, black and red stripes in jagged hair, poker straight, screaming; “Don’t stare, but why aren’t you?!”

And then sudden exposure in the central hubbub of noise and busyness as people mingle and twist and turn, staring at you, staring ahead, mind’s on their place to go…Lanes veer off, one leads to the market, one to the rooms of indulgence and one to the green with boys playing on wheels…At the top of the hill, girls wrapped in scarves and soft khol liner, hide behind shaggy fringes and black sun glasses like saucers, with floral petticoats, whispering secrets and desires and talk of books…Suited men, stilettoed women, chatter business with aftershave and red lipstick rush past un-noticing and un-noticed.

Further in, the other way, a man staggers past as another rests his drooping head, chattering to himself, whilst banging a box in the drizzle…A girl plays her flute and a young couple argue as I watch the pigeons peck at nothing. This is what I saw that day.

Fran McElhone