Tuesday, 27 March 2012
Half a dozen wee boys kick a football back and forward across Shaw Street, bang, bang, banging against the metal roller shutter of the corner property.
Sitting quietly on the ground half way down McKechnie Street, teenage boys and girls are lounging around, relaxing, smoking, chatting, instead of the usual huddling up on a cold March night.
Tenement windows are cracked open in the stillness and from one first floor flat comes a boomshakaboom rhythm. A couple of African men sit by the window, drinking from cans, throwing their heads back, laughing. Another man dances in the room, shifting back and forth, gyrating slowly. A song floats down through vespertine shadows.