It seemed as though I had traced a zigzagging, rhizomatic path,as today I travelled: from one of my (re-claimed) homelands, to my childhood home; and to that strange, elusive, liminal territory wherin I had sojourned for a mere five and a half, dislocating months…all in ONE day.
It seemed impossible-unless through the reconstructive process of the VERBAL tracing itself- to trace, or keep a grasp on, my journey, which catapulted backwards upon itself, a mirror of the rambling trajectory of the little green “Hail and Ride “173 bus, wending its tortuous yet blythe way via the byeways of Mossley Hill and Sefton Park:- to deposit me (though not in such a sedimentary way as rocks!) at a lamp-post adjacent to my new and, hopefully, permanent home. It was a symbol of my psychological and physical life journey(hitherto); it meandered, it changed direction, it jacknived back upon itself; it seemed, like myself, to re-invent itself, with slight gradations and changes- some imperceptible- as it went…
To arrive: at an urban wildlife arena: big duck-like birds, of unknown(to me) provenance, a wild parrot(glimpsed), multifold squirrels: these all in one tree! Ducks sat, ingenuously, on the (ex?) little Council estate, as if on a village green; yes, ducks….
—————————————————————-“Sanctuary” in name; sanctuary in reality: it remains to be seen; certainly, a haven for wildlife!.
And all the big birds of Sefton Park sang, as the little green bus stopped, unwontedly, in Livingston Drive South… No-one got on and I got off:.. at a lamp-post!