The woman in the poster
It is August 1981 when I see the young woman in a vintage poster, an ad for Pears soap, her skin ivory and flawless. It inspires me, and that younger me - fresh back from a year in Japan - is composing a poem. There are no iambic pentameters, no rhyming couplets, just intense emotion and free form verse, a handful of mixed metaphors that don’t sit well with my older self. It is December 2021, 40 years later. My own skin is no longer flawless (was it ever?) but my mind is open, grasping opportunities to learn, again and again. I am in a small provincial town, desolate and desperate as this virus sweeps through the country. My learners are keen - hiding behind masks - as we talk, we share, we listen and we laugh. At lunch time, we head outside, the grey sky reflecting the mood of the town. A young woman, her jeans tattered and torn, approaches and begins to speak to him. He, who was so attentive just 10 minutes before, now applying the newfound knowledge and skills so passionately in the...