Yesterday

Already yesterday had I decided to return to the The Inattentive
Reader, a painting by Matisse. The painting, I think, is very
attractive and signals calmness, laziness but also something serious.
But I was too tired to stay last night, and that is why I returned
today. I wanted to return to the dull colours of pink and gray, to the
calmness and also to the feeling of recognition.

My way to Tate Modern went through Brixton, where I had never been
before. Bus number two take you from Victoria to central Brixton. I had
no errand. I only had the feeling that today was that day when it was
going to happen, this bus tour that I have planned to do for quite a
while.

I walked straight to the market, it being so close to the bus stop.
"Jesus will fix it, Jesus will fix it", the refrain in a hyped gospel
was played on high volume in one of the stalls and the song made me
smile. You can?t cheat anyone hear, can you?

I have heard that the risk of being robbed is higher in Brixton than in
many other areas in London and I converted my handbag into a bag on my
back, since it must be harder for a thief to grab it from there than
from one of my shoulders.

"Jesus will fix it" faded away when I turned into what appeared to be
the real market. Stall after stall with bargains, and, for the first
time since I came to London, I see a decent range of false hair. It is
hair in different lengths and colours, perhaps even in my nuance. I
don?t buy a hair extension but I like to know where they are if I would
like to buy one later.

There are Bibel quotations for sale and there is a hair bar where they
can plait your hair. I stop to have a closer look at some ear rings. A
man walks up and stops behind me and I have to turn at least a quarter
of a circle not to stand with my purse under the mans nose. The ear
rings cost fourteen pounds and I don?t consider that a bargain so I
keep strolling. The man is still standing by the stall as if it was his
stall. And perhaps it is, I think for myself.

I wouldn?t call this a market primarily for tourists. I can be wrong
but I don?t think the stuff here is what tourists normally look
for.

A woman, nothing less than a nun dressed in white, comes rushing
through the crowd. She seem souvereign in some peculiar way, and she
would make a great extra in an Indiana Jones movie, I think.

Outside the market stands a woman who is reading from a big, big Bible.
I cross the street and jump on the bus to London Bridge.

I must confess that the seriousness in Matisses?painting didn?t occur
to me until I read the text on the wall beside the painting. It sais
that the flowers and the mirror in the picture are signs of the time
that passes by. Of course, they are. Naturally, neither the flowers nor
the mirror are there as pure decoration. They are there to remind the
woman of the time that passes by.