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Tag Archives: sketch
Untitled IX
He has a leg up, resting it on a white-lidded esky. Both wear stiff cargo pants and dusty boots, a halo of boot prints around where they sit. The one in a yellow vest flicks through a men’s magazine he rests on his thigh. The one on his right wears an orange vest over a [...]
Winter
Shoes black, gleaming like cockroaches. Bald spot. White hands are produced from pockets. Ladder in her pantyhose. Rosy cheeks. Collars up. Dark colours for a dark mood. Those from the south say, Oh, look at them. Over reacting. The way they whip out their scarves. The way they huddle in that patch of sun. Arms [...]
Car park
A ute rattles in. The stones crackle under the tyres and culminate in the pop of a glass bottle. The diesel-engined clatter is punctuated with a puff of brown haze. Outlaw is tagged in different jagged sizes on the far wall, juxtaposed with the writing of a practiced swollen cursive. Next to [...]
725
The kind of person who ate fried food from grease-stained paper bags at breakfast time.
He spoke using his hands, pointing with a thick, hard finger, always to something over there.
Face polished by sun rays.
Double take of recognition. Holds his sunglasses up to the light then folds over a cuff, using it to clean the lens. [...]
Notebook 15.12
Her hair is impeccably styled, dyed a bright blonde. An unearthly blonde. She holds a magazine in her lap, one of those thick-bound publications, printed on heavy, glossy pages, seemingly full of only advertisements for shiny, gaudy items. The type of magazine that doesn’t fit in a mailbox slit. All that she wears but her [...]
Notebook 23.11
The red ‘do not walk’ glyph stops flashing and stays lit. The cars start again. He stops before the curb with all the others, out of the sharp morning sun, in the cool shadow of a tall, nameless building. He does this every day – either he makes the light just before it goes green [...]
Notebook 2.11
Winter morning. He wears an old jacket, so old that the white has turned yellow. Wester Suburbs Squash Team is written across the back. Silver hairs curl out of the neck. As young women pass, his head drops, as though ashamed, his mouth hangs agape and he stares. His skin is tanned from years, decades [...]
Notebook 22.9
Everyone else was already there when he arrived, already a few drinks into the night. He shook their hands and mumbled a hello. He even smiled at one of them. Once done, he slapped his thigh and his buttocks, checking for the location of his wallet. He looked at the froth-lined glasses in their hands. [...]
Bedroom