Observations
Drifting into the kitchen late last night, after a much needed hummus-run to our local Sainsbury’s, my flatmate quizzed me on what I saw and observed on my walk.
Although just a satirical question, it struck me the degree to which I could remember it at that time, and even now, probably 24 hours later, I can remember with striking accuracy every detail of that journey.
With that on my mind, I thought it might be an interesting memory and writing exercise to explicitly describe the strongest and most truthful of those recounts in this blog post. So, here goes nothing...
The most powerful and vivid image I can remember occurred when I was walking by the vast array of independent shops which lead from my flat to the Sainsbury’s further up the road. It was late, probably about 8 in the evening, yet the streets were still busy. A queue had formed along the side of the road for the bus stop, taken up mostly by men and women in suits. Turning my head to the left, in part to check my reflection in the shop window and in part to avoid eye contact with anyone standing at the bus stop, I found myself feeling strangely intrusive as I peered into a shop at a lady with tinfoil wrapped around her hair, sitting in front of a mirror fiddling with her hands on her lap.
She was clearly in the process of having her hair dyed a dark red, however her face told something of an emptiness. She was alone for the few moments I saw her. The hairdresser must have been in another room at the time. It’s possible that in my fleeting glimpse at her, I mistook glazed boredom with loneliness, but I can never stop my mind from running in circles over things like this.
As I continued walking I couldn’t help but think about the people standing at the bus stop. Had they seen something that I had’t? Did they feel just as uncomfortable as me, or am I the only one who thinks like this?
Thoughts like these often occupy my mind when I walk places. But why, if that’s the case, do I notice so much? The man I followed into the shop with black frizzy hair, glasses, dark straight-leg jeans and a leather jacket. The unfamiliar face behind the till, who I noticed whilst putting my own shopping through the self-service machine. The man standing outside the pharmacy in smart shoes and clothes, looking as though he’d just turned up for his first day at work, only to find the shop was closed. The lady who climbed off her black and yellow road bike as she pulled it onto the pavement just in front of me. The crowd of elderly couples standing outside a newsagents looking like they were on a coach trip of some sort, one man in particular giving me a look to suggest he was apologising for blocking the pavement.
I’m describing all these memories in very limited detail, as there’s just too much to mention. I’m glad I can remember it all though and I’m especially glad that I’ll likely still remember tomorrow. It’s useless information for me to keep and sometimes I stress that I’m wasting space in my head. But, in reality, this sort of thing is what I hope will one day feed into my filmmaking and writing.
Remember this: “Most problems are solved if you just cut the exit”