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Some
of the pedestrian bridges
catch some shade from the
trees that are planted by
the river. Still level,
functional and tarred, they
at least have shade-patterns
thrown across them, reminding
you of change and life.
Some have gaps in them too,
so you can see the water
moving underneath you. The
river itself has been forced
into a straight and narrow
path, not of its own volition.
Its bed is a straight concrete-sided
channel and Anna thinks
it’s hardly surprising that
it hurries as if it cannot
wait to get out of the city
and return to its own path,
its own familiar mud and
seeds and living and decaying
things that nourish it.
Twin
gods reign on
both sides of
the river. At
your feet, the
patient poverty
of street-vendors
with a few seeds
or some wooden
spoons or a
clutch of plastic
hair combs spread
out on a sheet
on the ground.
And high above
your head rise
apartment blocks
– some painted
with stripes,
others in contrasting
shades, still
others with
chequered, 3-D
effects and
one in imitation
tartan, with
loose-weave
painted checks
straggling across
the building’s
surface.
Poverty
and affluence
click their
twin heels along
the varied sidewalks.
Some are tiled
with lacy patterns,
designed to
make your feet
break out in
choruses of
plainsong, to
the greater
glory of the
God of Paving
Stones. Others
are broken up
and have to
be negotiated
with great caution,
with lumps of
masonry and
metal spikes
sticking up
out of the ground
and muddy areas,
or holes where
the water has
collected.
On
the corner of
Sami Frasheri
a shop is selling
brightly-coloured
plastic flowers.
And on the corner
of Myslym Shryi,
among the bananas
and enormous
watermelons,
someone is selling
plants in pots
and in one of
them the petals
of a solitary
pink rose are
beaded with
raindrops.
The
thunder didn’t
start till after
she got home,
it sounded surly
and deaf to
reason, a bitter
grumbling that
wasn’t yet a
roar. She thinks
the lightning
and the thunder
live on Dajti
mountain or
at least claim
it as their
summer residence.
The sky is a
uniform grey
now, without
the slightest
shade or knot
or tangle and
the thunder’s
getting louder,
closer.
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