Mirijevo Park: Community at Sunset
Pastels encircle as they stroll through space, the community step together to the sound of flip flops, whilst white t-shirts glow in the sunset. The soft haze of candy pink and baby yellow colours the playtime dreamtime where young boys run, and raising heartbeats, they lose themselves in football on the grass. Others crouch beneath trees, sit on benches, resting on railings. Arms stiff, arms crossed, or arms loose behind their backs. Women wander, the pleats of years sway and feet push their steps into open sandals, as they circle this miniature world.
Over them all, the red brick building stands on the hill, looking out across to the fields lying in the distant. It has been three years of shadows moving across the park, children falling on knees, hands washing beneath the silver public tap, and the seasons have been drenching, warming and freezing this place in my absence. Since, this park has grown, water runs in a larger cross-like fountain, dogs seem less wild, they stroll next to their owners, full and groomed. The men now bowl in numbers I have not seen before. Twelve or more sitting and watching at each of the two concrete enclaves, throwing time to get that inch closer to the end goal. They throw with their full body, leaning into the game. The fair here is but small, a caravan parked up beneath the tree, the swings of the carousel wait to be filled, whilst the light rests after a long day on the painted hanging chains. Elder women walk with their faces forward, and thread of conversation from the last ten years of these evening walks continues sewing the quilt of the everyday. “I tell my comrades about what I’ve been cooking, we share recipes, compare the market’s prices. We are always asking how we are, and how are the grandchildren. Has your daughter called from abroad yet? What news has she? Are the kids listening to her in Germany, Finland, Australia, England and America? Their voices have changed through the telephone wires… Our favourite tv drama has become ridiculous, the characters are over the top, and they live through such drama. But still, we compare our notes everyday…” She stops to buy an ice cream. She has stopped buying popcorn from Dragan. Her feet walk her past, protecting her teeth that can no longer take it, the crunch. Her once favourite treat, replaced by the melting chocolate and vanilla. Her tooth aches. “Imam koliko imam.”
