Penny for the poor? Thanks mate, you’re a champ. Actually, ahem. I couldn’t be cheeky and ask for another two hundred and eighty-eight pennies could I? I need to grab a tram. Are you sure? Cheers fella, you won’t regret that! Fancy a pint? Two beers por favor. Six hundred and twenty-two pence? Oh, uh… mate, is it your round? Chin-chin! That beers given me the munchies, don’t know about you but I could murder a kebab. Three hundred and eleven pence. Thanks buddy, I needed that. Belch. Lets take a gander at the museum! “Two hundred and sixty seven pence please sir. Each.” Didn’t cost a penny once we were in, eh! Just need to pop to the shop mate, are you coming? Eggs, tick. Milk, tick. Bread, tick. A handful of apples, tick-tick-tick. Six hundred and twelve pence. Oh. Umm. Yeah. Are you sure? I must owe you what, like two thousand pennies? Two thou… wow. Well, I best be off home mate. Thanks again! Sorry, I never did catch your name? Continue reading ‘Penny for the Poor’
Monthly Archive for December, 2008
Day One: “Oooh. Nice Turtle Farm, can we come and work here?” Day Two: “What’s the difference between a turtle, and a tortoise?” Day Six: “What do you mean people eat turtle eggs!?” Day Nine: “Welcome to the Peraliya Sea Turtle Farm, kids. Did you know that tortoiseshell is actually the shell of a hawksbill turtle and is one of the main reasons they face extinction?” Day Nine and a ¼: “Wanna set one free” Day Nine and ½: “A bit slow, huh. Wanna carry it to the water?” Day Nine and ¾: “No speak English?” Continue reading ‘The Reprint: ‘Turbo Turtle’’
Zoom in a bit, in a bit more, more, more, out a bit, a touch more. Now focus. Slowly does it. Breath. Easy on the trigger. Look around the frame. Zoom in a bit. In a bit. In a bit. Breath. And. Wait for it. Shoot! Snap? Click? Damn it. Turn it on. Refocus. Pan right a bit. Easy on the trigger. Breath in. Breath out. Perfect. Count down from three, two… get out of the way! Three, two, one. Snap. Click. Whirr. You beauty! Continue reading ‘The Reprint: ‘Taj. You’re It.’’
He was stood still, caught under the orange spell of a local streetlamp; though it occurred to me that the bulge of his belly was disguising a bubbling vat of laughter. His rumpled face was youthful and whimsical, yet ploughed with age. It was his wings that stopped me in my midnight tracks – dull brown feathered arcs spraying out from his stooping stalk. His pale hands fell beneath check shirt cuffs, and his long root-like fingers were suspended in a frozen quiver. His silent legs were strung with suspense in those early moments of our meet. I want you. I thought. “I want him!” I splurted. “You’re the greatest thing I’ve ever seen! I love him Reb. Don’t I…” my voice began to fade until it was just a rustle on my crackling imagination, “I love him, Reb!” I’d cast myself at the mercy of unforgiving rapids of excitement, and she knew it. “Come on you idiot, what are you gonna do with a string bloody puppet!” Continue reading ‘Home Truths’
