When we first arrived in Brooklyn we walked the streets in the
neighbourhood. Each day we passed the corner and I saw on the ground an explosion of yellow pieces of plastic, scattered over almost the whole corner, many metres. The pieces were all the same deep yellow and many and varied sizes - it was impossible to tell what the object had been or what event had shattered it.
Each day as we passed the corner I saw the pattern on the ground.
Sometimes it was glowing from a golden cast of sunshine, sometimes sullenly dark, flat and muted in the mud, or a bright relief being cleaned in the rain. Eventually I knew I would pick the pieces up. Day after day they remained as they were on the corner and before we left Brooklyn I collected them to hold as a talisman.
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