My daughter went to spend an afternoon with a dear friend last week, an elderly dear friend, who has worked across the globe from China to Ghana.
They sat together for the afternoon, and Barbara, lets call her Barbara slowly and gently weaved the story of her life through the afternoon; of growing up in Singapore, and seeing cormorants shackled to their fisher men. of sanpans, and of being evacuated in the eve of the Japanese invasion.
But it is the cormorants that haunt me; imagining my daughter sitting a the feet of Barbara, and imagining the silver collared birds perching on the side of the sanpans, peering down into the water to catch the silver glimmer of fish as they pass underneath caught in the moonlight. Its the combination of the sleek black bill
the slender prow of the boat, the moonlight silhouetting the fishing nets.
Its times like this that I begin to glimpse how powerful story telling is....
2 comments:
You've drawn an exquisite image here. Your child sitting at the feet of an elderly lady, the cormorants and fishermen, the moonlight and memories. All being immaculately stitched together like an elaborate tapestry yet sewn by a simple hand.
More please...
Mrs Jackanapes going soft in her old age
This is lovely - you captured it, very vivid...wonderful. Wendy
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