(I didn’t coin the name)
Heading down the valley to go up another this morning.
A family lounges in fold-out chairs, thick dressing gowns. A child paddles in the burn, pink plastic sandals shed clear sparkling droplets of water as she steps from the flow. Camper van gleaming white. Next along, a smaller lone camper, they mustn’t be up yet. Further again a man sits facing the water within a constellation of objects. Car, tent, burnt out fire, numerous other things unidentifiable from this distance lie around him, shining metallic and plasticky. The things, bits of stuff grow sparse as distance from the reclined figure grows, adding a question mark over ownership and proximity’s relationship.
In the bottom of the valley the water is running out. Stones shine pale and dull at its edges. A line has appeared along the muddy banks, dry above, damp below.
Jessie Growden 