Creative Writing, Now and Then.                          Latisha Halcrow

Brimming pavements where the troubled teens do as they wish. The public observe vaguely to see their fears confirmed. The rather sad life of teens with no reassurance out on the streets lingering in town, jaunting the byway to fritter away time. Drawing smoke into their lungs, they feel the power of what they’re doing. It seems to fulfil them. They feel in control, control of themselves and what they are doing. Moving into sight, vehicles dominating the thoroughfare. The agile cars chase one another down either side of the street, eager eyes looking over the top of the dashboard in temptation and determination to beat one another. Meanwhile there’s loss of patience from the neighbourhood from strident noises stuffing nightfall. Dirty grimy decrepit walls with Modern graffiti surrounding them. The walls have been spray painted illicitly; waiting for the shadow of the old buildings and lampposts to melt into blackness. The quiet contempt of the can as they have sprayed the black vivid line across that wall. The sound of the shill of the metal ball rattles in the casing and it forces the new creation out. A new story told. The back streets are an environment of creativity, a place to release all your emotions. Most creative when calm by themselves in there happy space in the alleyways. It schedules a message and centers their minds into the quietness of a creative sanctuary. Only at nightfall.

Looking east I see streams of sunlight through the thick wall of trees filling up every space between the leaves and branches. Leaves fall scattering the path carpeting it. There is something unsettling whilst walking along the back streets of the town. In the daytime there is a swirl of pollution in the murky air. Still clouds linger but it’s not an opaque sheet of dusky grey but instead a disorganised display of white billowy shapes among the blue. Like beautiful dancers making their way across the stage, wishing a belated day. Surprised by the sun’s rays and its warmth touch on my honey glowing skin  I stretch my arms out and  I tilt my head towards the sun.The sun’s bright, not enough to burn but enough to feel the warmth on my skin. The crowds walk up the yellow line of light upon the pathway from the sun. Town is busy, filled with families and friends gathering around in groups or walking out of the shops in the town of Oamaru. Conversations seem to last forever and laughing seems to never fade. The upbeat  atmosphere encompassing  everyone seems to vibe off one another. In the light the vast establishment appears more vivid. The fine details hand carved into the oamaru stone buildings that’s been standing longer than anyone around us all seems to attract cameras and tourists. Only during the day.