Butterfly Effect - ressourcesfeministes

196
half contained. Pot plants flower
from the back of a bicycle, a silverdressed
mannequin glitters on a raised
catwalk, supported by cold metal and
coiled wires. The sun shadows through
the cracks revealing a man in high shoes,
folds of coloured fabrics, a pyramid of
dried beans, rolls of sisal rope.
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The women are far less visible.
I follow donkeys down even
narrower lanes, behind the main
thoroughfare where daily lives
are lived. Here is the pulsing heart,
uncontained. Broccoli, capsicum,
carrot and chilli. Here is the woman
in her store selling every knick-knack
you ever imagined. Here are the cows
paused in their midday meditations.
Here is sixty-year-old Chandra Kala
smoking her hookah seated on a string bed.