Complex Simplicity

Complex Simplicity

Dull light filtering in through a window framed the withered woman. Bony fingers pushed and pulled a needle through a dress that was more patch than material. Milky eyes flitted about the dingy room; never focused, never seeing. A melody slipped subtly into the room. Giggling mischievously, the melody crept forward and sat at the woman’s swollen feet, brushing back a tambourine bang. All was silent. Without warning, the song sprang up and enveloped the woman with laughter-bells and xylophone-eyes. The song slowed down momentarily as she planted a flute-like kiss on the wrinkled cheek and then skipped out, leaving the woman smiling and shuffling to the window for her first taste of wind in years.

The music skittered down the streets, leaping lightly over the cracks and protruding bricks. A smear of children caught her attention and she quickly mingled into the laughter and excitement that ensued with every new marble game. The bright little balls glistened like jawbreakers and clicked as they scurried along the ridges and valleys in the road. The tune watched in awe and started mimicking their clacks with her drums. Delighted at the result, she twirled further down the street, reveling in the beat of the sun on her back and the dust eddying around her ankles.

Rainbow houses peeled from the pavement and elbowed each other jokily as they compared cracks and paint coats in much the same way as little boys brag about their latest wounds. Women with long skirts, chapped heels and calloused palms adorned the steps and window sills, chattering and calling to each other like a mismatched flock of sparrows and hadidas. Fascinated at the sound, the melody worked the harsh voices into her linings and, when satisfied with her handiwork, she pirouetted further into the district.

Raucous hoots and snorts of drunken laughter sounded from down the road and the song went to investigate. Here, a pub, run-down barbershop and a café’ were sardined together, people spilling from their doors. Beers sloshed around in mugs, spillages of the golden liquid unheeded amidst the rambunctious singing and jeering. The music gaily joined the ranks and allowed her rhythm to lull the day’s worries out of the men’s’ tired bones. Noticing a silver-headed man slip out along a side-door, the song followed him quietly.

As the melody tip-tapped after the man, she skillfully weaved the sun winking out from behind the Lion’s Head around the staccato beads in her bangles. As shadows overtook Tablebay, lamps and candles sleepily flickered awake and cast glimmers into the streets. The song could vaguely make out two entwined figures bathed in the shadows of an alley. The melody smiled and softly braided their blushing, breathless kisses into her hair. The melody melted back into the shadows of the city. She was the music, the life – the pulse – of the city.

*So yeah. This is what I have been dedicating all my energy to. This, Rae and the newspaper. *grins* I’m quite of short of writing time atm, but I will have to start making a plan. And thank you so much for all your comments  🙂 I’m sorry I haven’t been replying to them, but I am about to go do so now :P. Oh, before I forget… this is about District Six. It’s an area in South Africa that was demolished due to Apartheid and the idiots in power back then. It was mainly inhabited by freed slaves, artisans, artists and other people who couldn’t afford to live anywhere else. Tablebay is where it was and the Lion’s Head is one of the mountains that you can see from there. And yes, I did coin the title from a phrase in one of my other poems :)*

~ by cravingoxygen on February 1, 2009.