Amongst
the mourning of the morning
A
plethora of pupils engage me as I perch myself amongst the mourning of the
morning. A sandy haired first year spins cautiously above me on a padded red
chair as her laptop comes unglued from her thighs, momentary worry is halted
swiftly by a well-timed adjustment of grip. Nike and Adidas adorned hooves
stampede through this hub of activity, passing less like ghosts and more so
like that of a cavalry. Coffee vibrates in palms as a glum, yet obedient,
bronze four-legged charmer crosses the stream of my vision; he offers a nod to
those who glare at his ears.
Re-stocks
of plastic spoons and Irn-Bru by black cap wearing assistants presents
normality in the face of a young man who should certainly have remained in bed.
Bottle upon bottle of water is splashed across the campus, hydration being key
of course. A used napkin floats recklessly through the aftershave infested air
as the lady in grey shakes her head in a mechanic fashion. The hotdog vendors
flirt carelessly around the mustard as the ketchup coughs up blood. I spot the
boy in black reluctantly and half-heartedly attach his hand to that of his
girlfriends. I do wonder if it be simply the fact she has a cold.
Trolley
carts whistle at me and I am ashamed to tell them I already ate before I came
out. White emulsion spat across the decorator will take more than the one wash
and his cup of earl grey will have gone stone cold, yet, he is the picture of
content as he reaches his desired smoking spot. A checkered soul would look
more at home in an airport lobby for all the baggage he holds. Suitcase wheels
to concrete and sleep (or lack their of) to scathed skin.
A
gent of Berkeley or Yale and his gaggle of companions muddles past me and I am
somewhat amused at his cream trousers. He, I am most certain, would not dare
offer me a look for fear of my ghastly hair blinding him. So much is heard from
never actually listening at all.
-
Lewis Oldham
The
aesthetic of it
At
my destination, I see the serene water of the lake gently rippling as it is
disturbed by two ducks. They seem to be floating, but what we don’t see is
their feet paddling as fast as they can enabling their graceful façade. A male
and a female, a family, minding their own business as they swim by and ignore
those around them.
The
air is crisp for mid-September, a cool breeze contrasting against the hot sun
beaming down, engulfing everything below it. Clouds come and go, silently
watching over us, moving swiftly with the wind and occasionally blocking the
heat making the chilling breeze ever more noticeable.
The
sound of the water is prominent. The fountain displaying a loud gushing and
breaking the silence that encompasses the area. As people walk by, busy on
their route of the day, I catch small insights into their lives through
conversations with their peers. It is hectic, yet somehow they manage time for
social occasions as they update their friends with the antics of the night
before.
A
dull bellow from above draws my attention away from the quiet chatting around
me and distracts me. I look up to see an aeroplane passing over, weaving in and
out of clouds as though they were obstacles in an obstacle course. Racing
through the sky towards a far off destination. Carrying hopeful and excited
passengers, eager for their well-deserved break from the responsibilities of
everyday life.
The
buildings circling the area are vast contrast of each other. One looking rather
like a large, metal cocoon of creativity of imagination whilst the other look
similar in appearance with brick walls and large glass windows but you can tell
each room inside will have an individual’s spin put on it as they have made that
their home for the next nine months. As the sun continues to beam down during a
moment of cloud-free sky, the reflection of it from the water gleams onto the
metal cocoon building making it glisten, adding to the aesthetic of it.
Leah
Arnold
People
Observing:
A young student is sitting on a wall; he’s on
his phone texting away, a wasp comes towards him, he doesn’t spot it until it’s
right next to him, he looks up from his phone and he starts whacking it with
his hands, from far away it looks like he is just attacking thin air. The wasp
still hasn’t left him alone, He stands. He runs away. The wasp follows.
On the opposite side of the wall, a girl is
sat on the bench, the wasp has now gone from one student to the next, she sits
there not bothered by it, she’s already seen it but she carries on typing away
on her iPhone, the wasp lands on her neck. She doesn’t move. It stays there for
a good five minutes before it flies up towards her face and she whacks it away.
The wasp starts coming towards me, I get up and walk away.
The wind picks up and leaves blow in the
shadows. A guy in a black hoodie and sweatpants walks past, he’s on his phone.
His voice grows louder and louder shouting “She started yelling at me” People
turn to look at him, he doesn’t notice, he carries on walking until he is out
of sight.
People are huddled together all around forming
small groups, one group consists of two girls and one guy. The two girls are
wearing an Edgehill University jumper both in grey with jeans and sneakers, practically
wearing the same outfit. The guy is dressed in a jeans, white shirt and black
leather jackets slowly trailing behind them, they walk past the Arts centre
building with hot dogs in their hands, the guy has ketchup all over his mouth. He
wipes it away with the back off his hand.
Three students were engaged in a debate over
what they called a sandwich. The brunette states “It’s called a barm”. The
other two turn to look at her with the same look on their face, the tall black
haired guy and frizzy mousey brown haired girl say “I’ve never heard of that”
the girl turn to the brunette’s asking “what’s that?” The debate gets louder as
each of their volume rises. Finally the guy shouts “It’s called a cob”.
-Mia Harris (Hughes)
