Personal encounters: The Cultural Group

She is so small, so fragile yet possesses a fierce lust for life. She omits a quiet yet forceful dignity as she walks half doubled over, her eyesight bad enough for her to grab the back of chairs for guidance.

I first saw her enter the classroom in The Civic Centre last term. I instantly recalled my own Grandmother; sentimental recollections and associations.

We begin the discussion. She rarely speaks but she listens intently and absorbs the energy of the other participants .
I wonder about her life, where she lives, if she has children who take care of her.

The voices of the others fill the air and compete to be heard. They fling themselves around the room like missiles. Their urge to be heard is almost painfully aggressive .

Egos and restlessness of the older generation who may have been forced to suppress their opinions by our youthful society.

I watch their faces change as they become animated or begin to argue their point. Occasionally a separate conversation begins between two of them, and disorder rules.I am the instigator and secret observer.

I see them as individual Worlds, to be discovered and learnt from.How do they see me?

We say goodbye. They crowd into the lift as I take the stairs. Another week will pass before we come together again.