September 5, 2010 § 2 Comments
The mover’s weight is shifting from one foot to the other,swaying with quiet purpose. The right arm glides backwards and forwards sometimes lightly, sometimes firmly. The left hand scouts and leads, drawing tension through the fabrics. Items are moving from an unkempt pile of colours and textures on the tiled kitchen counter to a precarious pile of folded order at the end of the bullet-shaped board. Another mover passes by, it tips, it falls. There is a momentary spike of adrenalin that subsides a little more slowly than it rose. The pile is rescued, restacked elsewhere. The mover returns, the swaying continues.