Sunday, October 25, 2009

Coventry - a 50 word photo-story



We don’t talk to Mandy. Sometimes we sit near her just so she doubly knows we won’t talk to her. If she makes an effort, puts ribbons in her hair say, we laugh. If she doesn’t, we laugh more. Why don’t we like Mandy? I’ve no idea. But we don’t.

4 comments:

andewallscametumblindown said...

I’m Mandy. I used to make an effort. I used to put ribbons in my hair. They just sat round me and laughed. Now I don’t bother. I know no one will talk to me, whatever I do, so I’ve given up. What’s the point? If only I knew why….

andewallscametumblindown said...

Oops. Meant to sign as Miriam. I wish I could work out how to make that automatic.

simmone said...

this is great! I was just thinking about the term coventry which I first puzzled over in mallory towers books and then forgot about even when as I high school nasty I was sending unfortunates there ... where does it come from? why doesn't anyone use it anymore... I sense a google binge going on ...

Kathryn said...

Words were so powerful, even then. You could be whisked away from the mainstream of conspiratorial whispers, waves and curls by the tiniest of slip-ups. That faux-pax marked your path to cove-entry, the inward curve, the recess from acceptance. It was hard to fight against the flowing wall of silence.