Down the Street

Hey readers, this next one is inspired by my walk today. Sometimes it's nice to write about more specific stuff. I realise that one thing I don't do much is write about very visible and specific events or if I do the poem is more vaguely inspired by them. 

Today I walked through my neighbourhood for two hours or so. Odd that you might think such a thing could inspire. I totally believe in the idea of a flaneur (french) though, basically the idea is of this figure who walks in the crowd, but he is not part of the crowd. In a very basic sense a flaneur is more concerned than anyone else with exactly where he is? 

Think about it how much time do we actually spend paying attention to where we are? Might seem elementary, but it really isn't and it's very true especially nowadays where we have awesome gadgets such as the iphone so that we can be constantly away from where our physical bodies are present. Anyway, I think a full rant about this is best kept for another day!

The point is I walked through my neighbourhood not the nice part where I live, but about a a kilometre down the street (a little less than a mile for international readers :P)/ It's government department housing and it's a very different life. Trash all over the streets, dirt instead of grass on the ground and up turned shopping trolleys. To be honest it really just seems to be an environment where people are forced to be. THere is a community garden where the graffiti unlike everywhere else is trying to paint a happy community picture, but nothing is happy here. Everything is old, tired and dirty. The people here and perhaps mor eimportantly the government has given up. 

My mum has always called it the land of the housos, and part of me was afraid as I wandered through it. Afraid of the unknown...but mostly afraid of being misunderstood. People are defensive when they're not happy and I was afraid that out of one of these silent houses someone would come along see me with my iphone (taking pictures...man that was sensitive) and chase me down the street. More than that though, I felt as though I was invading. It was such a sad and foreign place to me that I almost felt like an explorer and much like an explorer feels (maybe) I wanted to know everything, but I was too afrai of the curse lurking int he wind.

What can I say it was enlightening. I'm goign to show a few pictures. I think everyone should be reminded of the poor and how lucky they are...me in particular. I am so fortunate. Although I feel as though I appreciate it so little. Oh well, the poem below is just another relfection on my walk! Tell me your thoughts or if you have a similiar tale I would love to hear it.

How has your local neighbourhood mystified you? What secret part of your suburb has been recently unearthed to you? And perhaps if none of this applies to you, you might think to explore the familiar it might alarm you how unfamiliar it truly is :)

(BTW I will be going back and changing my posts, hopefully soon to include a picture of a path. The idea is that the blog is called "where shall I wander" so hopefully my internet will help me make this blog into a multimedia sort of deal!)

Down the Street

The place of ruin

Is greater than what

I knew at first

Spray paints for fences

Toys for lawn ornaments

Couches compensate for patios

Cars on concrete not bitumen

Men in fluoro uniform

A fear of being there

With my camera out

So different and the

Token held in my

Hand a symbol of

Everything missing from this

Desolate village of broken homes.