Thoughts of a minibus traveller

Time Friday afternoon after I say right, let me pretend that I am in a modern progressive city and walk to relieve the stress from the difficult workshop which had to deal with geopolitics, gender-based violence and the powerlessness felt by Guyanese when dealing with 'outside' forces and local politicians. Lamaha Street with the fancy courtyard where the train station once stood, but no real pavement as these things go.  School children coming down laughing as they do, jostling each other. Some with umbrella to protect from sun.  Group comes up near me and I prepare for what I think is normal to allow them to get into single file and pass. The youths , the leaders of tomorrow like the leaders of today don't make room though.. determined not to break up their formation and collaboration and their unity,  they push me aside.. one girl shouts 'Uncle.. dis is nah time fuh you deh pon de road.. "  I manage to step out of their way and hope that no vehicle would als...

  Writing to the photograph   May Day in Guyana and the woman in 1979 Paris is lying in bed looking at me with a half smile . One hand is on her stomach and the other hand is behind her head. I am typing up with others from around the world on Zoom to answer "Why did you choose this photograph? What does it evoke for you? What does it remind you of?"  We are facilitated by author Julián Delgado Lopera who is leading the Writing Club at Home: On Intimacy organised by the Museum of Modern Art in New York.   Clock is ticking and I start typing up something and editing and so on. I am typing here because I do not want to be typing up on the blank documents which relate to work things - complex workshops, letters, emails, notes. And personal things like the deep journal - easier to write to a photograph from 1979 than to write to myself about myself. Day before, I sat in another Medium Writer Circle, with people around the world and writing Fiction. Deciding wher...