Today she looked so beautiful; I couldn’t help but take her picture…
NB. May be best viewed in miniature. I may have seen my city but the camera on the Crackberry isn’t the best for catching it. Apologies for the graniness of the images.
If she needed words…
Something about the sky tells me to walk. My feet choose to listen. Departing from the underground route normally taken they take me through the cobbled backstreets. Weaving in and out between the columns of brick I come to the river. The sky a dozen shades. Cornflower. Periwinkle. Cherry blossom. The everyday names of these colours insufficient to describe the palette above me.
I’ve walked this path during sunkissed lunches, rain-drenched Saturday afternoons, summer evenings on the way to unwanted goodbyes. Cathedral behind me, Eye looming ahead, the river keeping me company – always by my side. The people move too fast to note the countless memories caught between these branches.
The clothes change from suits to tourist layers. These people different from those who accompanied me on the first part of my journey. The business of getting home far from their minds. They shiver in the cold, their smiles frozen along with the rest of them. Some looking upon these sites for the first time.
The Londoner walks amongst them. Often leaving, always returning. I secretly smile; I see my city.