Carnevale

A  father, taking his two small children to school has positioned his son in the bright morning sunlight against the  shiny galvanised iron wall of one of the housing units. The son is wearing  a black cape with a red raised collar.  He screws up his pale little face and squints into the sunlight and lens. His mouth is filled with plastic fanged teeth. An  older sister, costumeless, watches on with the  intense reserve of a sibling.

A man dressed in smart casual work clothes has the red face and pointed ears of a Lucifer. He stops momentarily to lick away the black grease paint that has spread from his lips to his teeth. He glances suddenly self-conscious at the passing traffic as if caught gazing at himself  in a mirror.

Co workers.

The man  has seen everything that has happened in his dynamic work place from  its recent  origins to it current insecure present. He notes that it  has a high turn, over just in the time we have been there there have been 20 or more like 30 people who have gone.

The young English woman  does not want to be drawn. She has been forced by another worker  to make salad last night for a  farewell, her own is coming up. She does not eat salad much, it has been a challenge. She  is moving on to another city  where she will be very busy with an expanded role.

The man would not be popular but possibly  not actively disliked. His relentless need to witness and describe would make colleagues  uneasy.  Mention of him among others would lead to a momentary  silence before a  change of   topic. Only someone brash and outspoken would risk a  derogatory comment.   He  has an unhurried delivery as if he is laying out a collection of disparate objects on a table whose overall truthful function will be revealed if only he can complete the process without interruption.