Amid all the horror that is playing out before our eyes and ears, and oh so near, there are moments of something like joy.
She was standing under the bridge that leads to the harbour leaning on pink scooter and singing. When I came close, she stopped, picked up the scooter and walked on. Then, as I approached home there was another. She was sweeping. An elderly lady in carpet slippers and a nylon pink and white gingham apron, she was sweeping the pavement and the road outside her terrace house. Just that square or oblong beyond her door, no more. Just that.
We don’t and won’t forget what you are suffering. I promise.
