Albert felt lost and alone. The rain dripped steadily off the rim of his anorak hood. He kept his head tilted downwards so that the water didn’t run into his eyes. All he could see was the wet grey cobble stones at his feet as he walked. Very wet. His shoes were soaked through and his feet were cold. The uneven cobbles hurt his soles and his shoes were a size too large. As his left foot slipped forward inside the shoe his toes were painfully bruised. He quickly moved his weight onto the other foot which squished as liquid was compressed out of the seams. The laces were neatly tied, twice, so there was no possibility of them coming loose.
It was Albert’s 27th birthday. He was walking home from his mother’s funeral. He had been the only one there. Well, he and the vicar. And a homeless man who had wandered in out of the rain and shouted “intercourse, intercourse, intercourse” at the top of his voice before slumping down in a pew at the back and apparently losing consciousness. By the time the vicar had completed the ceremony and Albert’s mother’s coffin had slid through the sliding door in the wall the tramp had gone. Albert saw the doors slide shut behind his mother’s coffin, heard the faint roar as the flames came to life. The vicar snapped his bible shut and Albert turned his face towards him.
“I am sorry for your loss, Mr Crujak,” the vicar intoned.
Now Albert was alone and wet and cold. His feet hurt and he still had 7 miles to walk.
Where was he going ?


Jeremy Harle

Newton Abbot, United Kingdom

  • Artist

Artist's Description

Albert’s mother’s funeral.

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desktop tablet-landscape content-width tablet-portrait workstream-4-across phone-landscape phone-portrait

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