Lambton landscape

Walking down Lambton Quay one bright, warm, sunny afternoon, my senses are flooded with impressions.

People streaming down the sidewalk, dappled sunshine, warm in the sunlight, cool in the shade.

The aroma of coffee, freshly baked cookies, deep-fried fish and chips, curry, canapes, fresh bread, Indian food tinged with banana leaf (olfactory hallucination? Deep-seated desire?)

Baby blue eyes, black sparkling eyes, slanting eyes, sad eyes, sunglassed eyes.

Mothers pushing strollers with babies, mothers pushing strollers with babies in the fathers’ arms, lunchtime family interlude.

'Abra-kebab-ra' selling kebabs, 'Suzette' selling French crepes, 'Chow Mein' selling chow-mein, 'Tastebuds' tempting the tastebuds.

Drooping mouth, kissing-goodbye mouths, cherry-red mouth, sensuously laughing full mouth.

People with pamphlets – ‘Save the children’, ‘Save the forests’, ‘Save the world’.

Flowery skirts, mini skirts, layered skirts, tightly-clinging skirts over swaying legs.

Shop windows beckoning, Christmas trees twinkling, traffic lights turning amber-red-green, steel-glass structures next to elegantly rising churches.

Sautering walk, hurried walk, lazy hip-swinging sexy walk.

Crying children, happily-skipping children, tantrum-throwing children, toddlers gazing fascinated out of mothers’ arms.

Office-goers picnicing on patches of grass, construction workers on scaffolding hammering, lovers walking hand-in-hand.

People waiting at bustops. Waiting for love, waiting for heartbreak. Waiting at the crossing, ‘Don’t walk’, ‘Go’, just like life.

Stockinged feet, tired feet, sandaled feet, spring-in-the-step feet.

Silvery notes of laughter, broken bits of conversation, music pouring from the CD shop, tenor voices raised in carols, meloncholy rising from a one-stringed violin.

A medley of images, smells, sounds impinge on my senses and I come back feeling like I have just visited a painting.