Days of Yore

Gone are the days when I sat on the stoop talking to neighbours as they passed by - going to work, to school, to the bingo hall, to the park, to the street corner to listen to the soap-box man spout his beliefs of the day. Curtains twitch as mine stays still. We are all behind screens now - watching the stream of cars pass, bumper to bumper on the street where we used to play hopscotch and skip, singing our songs to the world. A world which has passed us by, leaving us unnoticed. We are the ones who shaped progress, who gave it its foundation, who lost fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, sons and daughters to wars for independence, sovereignty, power. All forgotten now as life surges on in the belief that technology will solve everything, where kindness is being overlooked in the rush to save the world from itself.


fiction by
Alva Holland

image by
kerry rawlinson