[return to Contents Page]

Ian Daw

Untitled

Lancaster's an old university town. It has thousand year old streets and fresh students every year, but neither of them ever seems to age.

One day I watched an ancient old lady feeding the pigeons in the main square. She had birdseed in her hand, and it was falling through her fingers as she stumbled towards a big group of birds. When they came to her she seemed almost to vanish inside a ball of wings and beaks. I could see her in there; she didn't hesitate or flinch, she just shuffled onwards as she was.

almost dark—
a fountainlifts
the falling rain