Sputnik

Detail of mural, Bratislava Hlavna Stanica. (1960)

Newspaper clippings

My mother sends me random newspaper clippings. It's a way to keep in touch with more than just emails. It keeps me up to date on the current affairs back home, and conveys a bit of the world left behind. And I like receiving a real letter. In an envelope. With stamps. And a short handwritten note. Handwriting makes people so much more real.

But somehow I always find myself reading the backs of the clippings. Snippets of articles accidentally included: the last paragraphs of a corruption trail, a column of housing, a snippet of education. And advertisements. Boerewors. Metres of meat, at ridiculously low prices. Nappies and All Gold. The things you forget.

Mushrooms

I should have been expecting it, but the arrival of autumn still surprised me. Mild, sunny days quickly changed to days of solid rain. The world smells different. Wet. With the earthiness of decomposing leaves. Days are shorter, and shadows are longer. And the mushrooms appear, discreetly, very quietly.

So many of them: a city on the lawn.