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A little girl with thin pale limbs is playing in the field, picking dandelions and blowing their pulpy centres against the wind. Chasing small windmills of white spun threads, through the brittle leaves of a mulberry bush, cotton wool petals fastening into the depths of briar bushes. She pushes her way through the rough limbs, plucking at bright purple fruit and jamming them into her mouth. The sweet juices trickling down her chin as she pursues the white threads…
Two little girls, each the mirror of the other, jumping up and down in their cotton nightdresses, yelling and shouting and waking the neighbours cat. A crack of plaster lengthening along the wall as the vibrations of their joy takes its toll. Two parents sitting, with smiles and pieces of toast with butter and jam, on two chairs watching their little girls wake up and stumble into the living room, chasing their hopeful expectations…
A little girl pushes her way further through the thorny limbs aiming for fluffy white treasure, but instead catches a glimpse of something else, something hidden. A small bolt of silvery grey, deep amongst the litter of old autumn leaves and pale green tumbling weeds and the bright greens and purples of the mulberry bush. White threads forgotten, she sets her eye then on the something hidden…
Two little girls settling their eyes on a small pile of brightly coloured boxes, jumping up and down they scurry over. One picks one up and shakes it up and down, wondering what's inside, something hidden inside each box. The girls eager to uncover each boxes secret, they glance once more to their parents to ask if its alright then, to begin their search to find each hidden gift…
A little girl stumbles, her face scarred with a sharp nettle that jars against her pale skin, her hands searching through nettles and briars to find the hidden thing. And her hand lightly touches it, cold and hard, soft and smoothe but the edge is sharp and draws red blood to her fingertips and she cries out and stumbles backwards…
Two little girls clawing with bright painted fingernails, one set of purple with gold spots, the other turquoise with half silver moons. Clawing through folds of brightly glittering foiled papers, tearing away layers to reach their hidden gifts. Each exclaim lightly at their prizes, and once each is unwrapped they sit back a little, what they really wanted wasn’t there…
She sits there with her hands folded over the sides of a hard redwood chair, resting against its high austere back. She fixes him a soft steely gaze, blue grey tears enquiring of him then; ‘you're hiding something from me’…
He sits slumped in the stiff ornate chair, his head sunk against its hard unforgiving back, watching her with his green eyes, the white shot with red blood from lack of sleep. Looking at his cold wife trying to plumb the hidden depths of her feelings…
A middle aged man glancing over the business records, trying to figure out why it doesn’t all add up. Scribbling out scores of figures yet again, struggling to understand what’s wrong. He takes out another calculator, angrily stubbing in the numbers and again they don’t add up. He looks through the bills and records again, trying to figure out what company asset has suddenly become hidden from his accountant’s scrutiny…
A middle aged woman glancing over at an old wedding photograph. Letting her memory wander back in time, through fond affections of picnic’s past and shared embraces. A family photograph from a year ago, gathered together at the local beach making sandcastles before the sea washed both the castle and their packed lunch of chicken sandwiches away. A wife wondering where her husband has gone too these past six months…
A man watching through a telescope the passage of the stars, tracking through his map each single star, many are hidden from his sight and he sighs in frustration, wishing he had more money for a stronger lens to find them. From the corner of his eye he spots a sudden flash, and then as he searches the sky it is lost again, hidden once more from his view and he still wonders of it months later…
A little girl stumbles back on something hard protruding from the briars and mulberry tangles. Rising to her feet again she digs out from the undergrowth a hard dull box of black. She drags her heavy prize from the bushes and clutching it too her she forgets her games and runs back to her home to show her mother her mysterious prize…
A mother takes a dull box of black from her daughters arms and with a nervous touch glides her fingers over its surface and her heart cries out. Answers still hidden, but almost in view…
