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(Today's task at the Zokutou meet was to wander off into the Tate Britain and find something to write about. I found myself at the Days Like These exhibition. This was what I came up with...)
I am in a big room, white and bright like when the snow came. The walls are white with colours on them sometimes, square colours. Dad holds me to his red jumper. His arm is tight round my chest. If I stretch my neck I can see his round glasses and his pointy nose and his bushy eyebrows which are grey. His nose is pointing at the colours on the walls. Someone is humming but there’s no one there. I swing my legs back and forth. Dad points his nose at a different wall now and I look too.
( Read more... )
I am in a big room, white and bright like when the snow came. The walls are white with colours on them sometimes, square colours. Dad holds me to his red jumper. His arm is tight round my chest. If I stretch my neck I can see his round glasses and his pointy nose and his bushy eyebrows which are grey. His nose is pointing at the colours on the walls. Someone is humming but there’s no one there. I swing my legs back and forth. Dad points his nose at a different wall now and I look too.
( Read more... )
