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Isabella 2023 and Kathryn 1995

Why Did She Throw Them Away?
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Why Did She Throw Them Away?

by Isabella

A girl wanders around some roses, a camera in her hand. The sun shines, bringing out the glow of her locks. She kneels in front of the roses, the dewy grass soaking through her jeans.

I watch as she brings the camera up to her eyes, pausing for a second. I hear the click of her camera as she pushes a button. She stands, shoulders lifting up in a huff.

I watch her face twist into regret as she looks at her photo. She turns towards the smell of roasted coffee beans, catching my staring eyes. I turn my head away sharply, but when I look back, she’s gone.

She returns within minutes with a large envelope. She unseals it and drops glazed rectangles in the rubbish bin, one after another until she is left with one. She frowns at the photo and exhales, leaving with the envelope. I approach the bin and snatch the abandoned images.

They are beautiful. More beautiful than she could see.

Isabella has been coming to Saturday classes at Write On for 6 years. She has been published in the Write On magazine twice. She loves to listen to music while she reads.

Fake Cream and Roses

by Kathryn

Here is a photo that I took of some roses, some grass, a tree and a building. It is a picture of one aspect of the Arts Centre. I took it because I was running out of time in which to take my photo.

I wanted to take a photo of a pumpkin and chocolate chip muffin from the cafe. The cafe uses blue and yellow colour themes. A warm, steaming bright orange muffin would have been more socially acceptable, if not politically correct, photo. When I think of those muffins I think of the Arts Centre. When I think of the Arts Centre I think of the Square…

Folded into a corner of the square, hidden from the buses and camouflaged by sweating bodies, is Caffiendo. Caffiendo is another cafe. I  went there once.

It was filled with loud, sweating men, and women in almost see-through dresses. There I ate a sundae made from fake cream and chocolate.

On the smoke shrouded counter was a glass vase filled with fake roses.

As I said, there are roses in my photo.

first published in Write On 1995

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