My inner Ti-Mazaka would appear to be playing up. I've spent the last few minutes teasing the little mort that lives in the churchyard next door. I've always kmown there was something there in darkest corner of the grounds, where a shadow is cast on three sides by the church building itself and by the trees that mark the boundary of the churchyard on the fourth.
I knew it was a child but very little else until I did some research and found out that a three year old girl from the area had died in the blitz; there's a list inside the church itself of parishioners who were killed in the bombings. As might be expected from someone who met their end in an air raid, she hates loud noises and bright lights, and will often retreat back to the walls and hide next to the stained glass window that depicts the virtue of Charity when a car drives past at night. Sometimes I take her Gede offerings of cola or bread; or on Fet Gede, skull-shaped sugar cookies.
I've noticed that the local children only play in her area of the churchyard; they completely ignore the rest of it. I think she likes the company, personally. Boys play football there on sunny days, and this morning it's a lovely warm day. I've been pointing out of the window singing "Dora's got a boyfriend, Dora's got a boyfriend!" and "Dora and the footballers, sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G!" I don't think she minds.
1 comment:
I can almost see her blushing a little as you do that, but with a grin on her face all the same :)
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