Rolling Stones

The staff in the local Salvation Army Op Shop love to play the old vinyl records that are donated.   As I wander around looking for a bargain amidst the bewildering detritus of other people’s lives Bob Dylan asking plaintively  “How does it feel it be a rolling stone?”

Now there’s a song that takes me back – visions of my brother as a young teen, his long brown hair flopping in his eyes as he puts Dylan on the turntable in his suburban bedroom.   Just what year is this I wonder as I gaze at the second hand books.   On the top shelf a box of floppy discs sits beside a pile of tattered magazines.  On the cover of one a girl with big hair models a jacket with wide shoulder pads.

Leaving the books I move through the rest of the store as Bob Dylan continues to wail.  I have to be in the mood for these places and that mood can quickly evaporate as I breath in the stale odours of outdated material goods.  In the second hand clothing section I come across an African girl fingering the lacy cloth of a dress.   She looks to be more at home than I feel.  Quite a few African refugees have settled in this town over the past few years.

In the next aisle I walk past a Middle Eastern couple.   The woman is in full hijab and the elderly man beside her is in a long pale blue robe.   We don’t see many people in such clothes down this way.  This couple look like new arrivals and I imagine a welfare agency directed them to the Salvos to get some basic household goods.    They look the other way as I pass and I wonder how it must feel to be refugees from a country many here see as some kind of enemy.

2016-07-04 13.48.14





9 thoughts on “Rolling Stones

    1. Thanks Meg. I liked the way you bought people into your story about your trip home. I think you influenced my writing of this post. Thanks for the inspiration.


      1. Oh, that’s nice! I know my eye has been attuned to things by what other bloggers fancy, and it’s one of the things that keeps me blogging. As for people on my trip home, I think I noticed a lot more because I was travelling alone.

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Cybele. The second hand shops of this town are sometimes the most lively places. I once heard a woman say to her partner – “It’s good we’re poor. It means we can spend time in amazing places like this.” 🙂


  1. <smile> I love the feel of your text … the way it browses through moments and people and thoughts as you browse through the not-quite-detritus of past cultural periods.

    And I wonder, too, at the thoughts and emotions and vibe the refugees must be experiencing as they browse along with you. They, possibly without much context or insight as to eras or genres or cultures or fashion. I wonder what they are thinking. I wonder… what are they buying?

    Sweet post. =)


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