Unbelievably a whole year has passed since I discovered the concept of small stones. Described by the project writing our way home as:
A small stone is a short piece of writing that precisely captures a fully-engaged moment.
It feels like a place where prose poetry can exist as it produces short intense, unreal pieces laden with words and images.
This small stone of reflective writing was found on a number 86 bus to Chorlton. It is a non-punctuated piece of strange. I admit to transcribing the woman’s rant in my mobile as she was speaking. I felt there was a poetry to it.
It is cold and the bus wouldn’t wait I was twenty pence off the fare so I went to the cashpoint, I took out twenty because it was out of everything else so I give the fresh bus a twenty. I sit on the seat nearish the back on the bottom deck and everything is quiet then she starts speaking she greets the man in the back and tells him what she thinks and part of what she says is we are the ones that are strong and fit us us. it doesn’t matter what race you are. you can come. it’s them that made the weather (the weather) and then when it goes wrong- right-they’ve got their protection that they can run and hide. thousands die and they’re like that yeah-they still got steak and mushrooms and filling water bottles with wine. It is cold and when she gets off the bus we all look at each other we pass our looks around the bottom deck like a piece of cake that gets smaller and more narrow minded as it passes from face to face by the time it gets to the boy who catches my eye my smile is a shrug on which the water of the world rolls off swift and easy as a duck’s back.
Small stone writing from last year:
Anna Percy Pebbles from 14th which inspired me.