Someone was kneeling on the pavement - he couldn’t tell as he approached - lines, shading, odd shaped spaces. It changed form as he drew close until, when the artist stood back, he was able to stop at the edge of the drawing, look down - it was an aerial view, roofs of buildings, tower blocks narrowing to ground level, roads like traces of beetles, cars as beetles themselves, the height, the wide perspective. It was so real then, in a heart beat he was there again, trapped, in the glass walled, glass floored lift that stalled in its descent outside the tower. He began to tremble, sweat, heart racing, whole body shaking, squeezed his eyes shut… Someone had his arm, pulling him, concerned. He opened his eyes, looked round, felt the ground solid beneath him, took the water offered, relaxed. Perhaps, he thought, trying to explain, he should congratulate the artist on the realism of his street art.
Dorrie Johnson lives on the South Coast where the sea, New Forest and Nature Reserves offer ongoing stimulation. She is a member of a Stanza poetry group. Poetry is one of her interests but she is always trying to improve her writing and has had a little publishing success.