Wednesday, October 03, 2007

Word On The Street, waiting outside the Port-o-potty

Caucasian girl, 15-16, with long brown hair pushed back behind her ears, wearing white shorts and layered tank tops, a worn canvas bag slung over her shoulder.

The Tracey Fragments, Maureen Medved (House of Anansi Press)

About page 56:

At night the buses ran further apart. I spent a lot of time just walking around, freezing and swearing. Houses with families in them watched TV. Light oozed out windows. TV lights burst and jumped. Changed shape. Danced across a curtain.
Her friend is taking too long. She shifts her weight to the other leg, impatient, head hovering over the page. She shifts again, kicks her toe against the door and mutters, C'mon, already. She'd called her mother, and the other had called hers, their stories aligned, an open door to an endless night of art and performance. Their first Nuit Blanche, their only sleep a 45 minute cat nap, huddled together in Trinity Bellwoods Park in front of a projected and growing arrangement of expired bugs.

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