Still Life

Saturday mornings are becoming a bit like a Jacques Tati film since I’ve been timing my arrival for when the shutters go up at the farmers market. The middle-aged man with neat grey hair and beard smoking at his front gate on Flora St, the couple in athleisurewear powerwalking down George St, the slim silver-haired woman with the red shopping trolley always 50 metres ahead.

Stone fruit is coming into season, still small and a bit sharp but juicy.

Inspired by Cheeryoscuro’s still life of eggs in a bowl.