Sunday, March 15, 2009
Pumpin'
In my armchair, feet up on the table, morning sunlight through the lace curtains. And the hoarse drone of a pump.
A morning sound that reaches back through the years. A squat aggressive Kirloskar in its grooved casing, under the stairs in the first house I knew. A seemingly effete Tullu in its own barred alcove behind the kitchen in
Labels: memories
