Streets
The house at the end of the road
Brick, a steep roof, and morning light that comes in sideways.
Anders Kvist
I walk past the same red brick house every morning. It stands where the road turns into a path, with a hedge and a gate that never quite closes.
In autumn the sun comes low through the trees across the road and lights up the gable like a lamp. For about five minutes. Then it is just a house again.
The owner
An old man who rakes leaves at seven. We nod. I have never asked about the light. I think he knows.
