The Girl-Witch (In a Graveyard of Sand)
I walk down the street and suddenly I see the face of a witch. It's the first thought that enters my head. Witch . Perhaps it is a harsh thought on reflection, as I crouch down to get a better glimpse of her face. There is definitely something uncanny about seeing her like this. She had caught my attention as I was strolling past, some distance away from her. I had glanced across to my left and seen her dark form, and the milky-white oval of her face. She is surrounded by common detritus: discarded, crumpled crisp packets; sweet wrappers; empty plastic bottles. To see her there is startling, and yet she doesn't seem out of place. It is as if the worthless things that surround her are trinkets or votive offerings; a shrine in honour of her presence. Upon closer inspection, she is just a young girl. She may or may not be a witch, a person adept at the practice of witchcraft . It's her clothes that make her appear as if she is, and make her black and white image appear sini