Made of Stone and Iron

 My feet in the water, I have been over looking London for many years. I can hardly feel the cold and brown water of the Thames splashing against my skin. But I can see the wounds it leaves on me. 

I am getting old but I am still strong and beautiful. People come from all around the world to see me and my sisters. Everyday, they come to me. Some are curious and ask me many questions, some just want to look at the wonder I have become. Some are scared.

I have seen a girl coming to me many times. She is scared of me even though she says she loves me. I keep on telling her how strong I am but she can't help it. She looks at me for hours, she says I calm her down. But she can't come to me. It saddens me. I wish she could come closer. Touch me, learn about me. Most people don't look at me anymore. They see me but they don't look. She does. She talks to me.

I have so many stories I would tell her if I could. Hours I would spend talking about it. Kings, Queens, stars, I've seen them all; and riots and murders; I've even seen a whale!

All those years I've been watching the city change. The buildings, the streets, the people. Good or bad I couldn't tell. Somehow it seems to be always the same. History repeating as they say...

A boat comes toward me, the waves are more intense. Sometimes, when a storm comes, they tickle my waist. I lift up my arms, waving at the passengers taking pictures. It takes a lot of my strength but it keeps my old bones from rusting. As I am Made Of Stone and Iron.

The Job Huntress

             Sitting at her desk, scanning through job lists, the Job Huntress wonders if she'll ever find the right position for her. She had a job not so long ago, but couldn't bear it anymore. She decided to leave. With the actual economic drop, finding another one might be a hard job itself but she didn't care. 
            "Why did you leave?", "Have you applied for other jobs?", "Are you looking properly?", "Is your CV up to date?". Are some of the thousands questions people throw at her. Her friends are worried, her family is worried but she doesn't care. "If I don't care, why do people care?" she asks. I'm sure there are many single or childless people who love to know the answer to this one...

Reading this, you might think she's irresponsible, light headed, maybe stupid. Well, she's none of that but the opposite! She always weight her options before taking a decision, pays her bills on time, make sure everything is planned, in one word: responsible.

           The Job Huntress even used to be a careerist. Wanting to be the best at her job. Thing is: she always thought she'd love her job but never had the opportunity to. So for now, after years of taking shit from a bitch (not me, a mean one), she's decided she deserved a break. Relax, go to the gym, help out some friends, just do random things. She does look for jobs but is not overly stressed about the whole situation. She realised that after all, work is not everything in life. You work to live no the other way round.

Paris, between David and Goliath

Sitting silently in the bus, putting her make up on, Paris is on her way to school. Her pale skin is hidden under foundation, her blue eyes circled by heavy black, her pink lips covered by gloss. During the 10 minutes she sits in the bus, she checks herself in the mirror and combs her hair a thousand times.

Paris looks at the face of the other passengers. They all look distant, sad or tired. She wonders why they are not taking more care of themselves. The clothes they wear, the way they tie their hair or put make-up on. She opens her fashion magazine and relaxes. There, are the people who do things the right way. They look happy. She wants to be like them. Then, she’ll feel like them.

On the way back home, she takes out her mobile and start socialising with her friends. She knows that all the information she puts online are used to turn her into a consumer, a two-legged advertisement. "What can I do against it? Nothing!” she quickly answers to herself. She wonders if she’s going to be happier when she’ll get the next top item she has order online from the "recommended list". Although she knows that once she'll have it, she'll just want something else. She always does.

Sometimes, she thinks about her granny who fought against convention, for women and individual rights. "What happened?". She hopes that someday she'll meet somebody she can be herself with, without the smoke screen. The more she looks around her, the more she doubts it. She's loosing touch with privacy. Nobody leaves her alone, neither does the big marketing guys who are following her every move nor does the CCTV.

Paris is only a teenager, still growing up. "How can I be myself if they don't let me build myself?". She knows she looks like a product, a doll nicely sitting on a shelf. She can see the looks of pity from others.  She turns away from them, faking indifference. But in her head, is always the same question: "if my parents can't protect me against the system, how can I protect myself?".