Reflections - Angelic Meeting
š§ An Angel Stepped Down - Jane Siberry
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The streets, continuously darkened, as everywhere under a sullen brown sky occasionally shot through with streamers of red and purple, were empty of people, although she heard the occasional repetitive sounds that indicated human activity. She avoided everyone, seen or unseen until she saw the mechanical Angel.
The Angel was perched under the hood of a wrecked vehicle chassis, wheel-less, propped on piles of broken brick. The first thing she noticed about the Angel was her artificial leg, a somewhat oversized metallic frame glimmering in the low light. Seeing she had been observed (the slight lift of Angelic chin, a rustle of skirt fabric being swept to better conceal that leg), she waved and approached, slowly, until the Angel spoke. "Please, sit, talk - its been ages since I spoke with anyone new!" - this uttered in an amused, gentle tone of voice, as if wary of frightening her visitor off.
So she sat with the Angel, and they talked - for hours, it seemed, and she found herself revealing details of her life she had rarely remarked to others, or even considered very much herself. Reciprocating, the Angel gave her history - like everyone it was inextricably bound to the change, but also to dance! The Angel had been a dancer, until a collapsing wall had taken her family and her leg.
I love to dance, said the girl, but I'm not very good. 'Oh no, dance is here!' the Angel said, gently pressing her hand to her chest. 'It's in the heart'. "I'm not very good" comes from here, in your head, she emphasized, tapping fingers against her skull.
Old people are weird, the girl thought to herself, not for the first time.
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Reflected at Eulennest Gallery
Exhibiting through to Dec 5
Reflections - Angelic Meeting
š§ An Angel Stepped Down - Jane Siberry
Next-------------o0o--- Story Navigation ----o0o-------------Previous
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The streets, continuously darkened, as everywhere under a sullen brown sky occasionally shot through with streamers of red and purple, were empty of people, although she heard the occasional repetitive sounds that indicated human activity. She avoided everyone, seen or unseen until she saw the mechanical Angel.
The Angel was perched under the hood of a wrecked vehicle chassis, wheel-less, propped on piles of broken brick. The first thing she noticed about the Angel was her artificial leg, a somewhat oversized metallic frame glimmering in the low light. Seeing she had been observed (the slight lift of Angelic chin, a rustle of skirt fabric being swept to better conceal that leg), she waved and approached, slowly, until the Angel spoke. "Please, sit, talk - its been ages since I spoke with anyone new!" - this uttered in an amused, gentle tone of voice, as if wary of frightening her visitor off.
So she sat with the Angel, and they talked - for hours, it seemed, and she found herself revealing details of her life she had rarely remarked to others, or even considered very much herself. Reciprocating, the Angel gave her history - like everyone it was inextricably bound to the change, but also to dance! The Angel had been a dancer, until a collapsing wall had taken her family and her leg.
I love to dance, said the girl, but I'm not very good. 'Oh no, dance is here!' the Angel said, gently pressing her hand to her chest. 'It's in the heart'. "I'm not very good" comes from here, in your head, she emphasized, tapping fingers against her skull.
Old people are weird, the girl thought to herself, not for the first time.
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Reflected at Eulennest Gallery
Exhibiting through to Dec 5