Streets of Monmarte Cracks in the plasterwork crawl across the street facing wall where the colour of the façade fades with nonchalant disregard. Solid buildings three foot thick of granite rock and heavy brick, with identical deep doorways whether private homes or cafés. Thresholds onto narrow streets where life is religiously discrete, lanes wide enough for a Fiat 500 or crones trudging homeward. A portière for each linteled entry muffling the smells of black coffee keeping wine-laden voices inside where familial mundane life resides. Vespas slip through tumbly lanes, exhaust dying in the afternoon rain. A scrawny cat skulks in a doorway eyeing the fading of an ordinary day
Alex Hand is a Brisbane-based poet, essayist, short story writer and editor. Alex Hand’s poetry is that of a modern romantic, his work tends towards the satirical but has an equally observant eye for the quirks of life. He has been published in Australia, the UK and the USA.