Monday, May 17, 2004

The Pubs

On the back porch of a rowhouse unit in Halifax's public housing projects I sit and talk to the couple who live there, prepping them for a television interview. The husband sits and drinks a beer. The wife dons a pair of sunglasses and opens up an appointment book, which baffles me a little since the interview is not happening sometime in the next few weeks but in about ten minutes. A little girl with diry hair, dimpled knees and a stained orange T-shirt runs into the yard, carrying a hopeful expression on her face and a plastic bowl in her hands. The wife glances up from her appointment book and screams, "No, Savannah! We don't want any mud!"


starcat said...

Savannah. That name seems to embody so many hopes and dreams. Of course they don't want her to throw mud.

Anonymous said...

luvasays: see, that's just rude. they decline their guest of fresh mud? snobby halifaxians.

palinode said...

They're snobby Haligonians. Weird, no?