The photographer reports on autumn scenes in suburbia.
The weather is mild and breezy in suburbia.
For a while I lost interest in doing infinite loops of the same streets, but the change in season and scenery makes walks inviting again.
The breeze lends an atmospheric, soul-stirring air to things. It draws me out. Away from glaring screens and incessantly dripping taps. It’s an easy call.
The air is fresh. Chimneys with Lego heads are etched against the blue sky. Dogs are being walked.
The wind makes my hair dance around my head like a crown.
On the corner, tallboy empties littering the steps outside a restaurant, give me weird flashbacks to choir practice in primary school. Remembering a day when a kid toppled face first off one of the precarious tiered benches we had to stand on, until we felt like puking or toppling over. One of my greatest (read: “very few”) acts of defiance as a kid was daring to opt out of the choir when given the rare chance one day.
Around a tree; FRAGILE tape, and the remnants of a poster about a LOST pet. Poetry for the many of suburbia feeling fragile, and a little lost.
A piece of lone graffiti in the underpass suggests people “love one another”. A thought.
In the park, a guy at a picnic table, sits with two empty stubbies by his side, glowing green in the morning sun. He’s showered in dappled sunlight. It’s a painting.
Winged seeds whirr down in slow motion, accompanied by a soundtrack of a ball bouncing on a court nearby. They land softly as the ball rattles through the hoop.
Dead leaves litter the ground like crumpled notes of a suddenly redundant currency.
Down the street, away from the park, a mattress leans against the wall outside a house, waiting for someone to roll the dice on it. It’s draped in plastic sheeting, which billows in the wind like the folds of a dress; a faded flower pattern peeking from underneath it. R.I.P. summer.
A truck with a skip on it rattles by.
Clouds roll in and over everything.
Warmth breaths condensate against cold windows as suburbia sleeps. And when they wake, it feels like forever before the sun rises red.