London vignette 1: The Lonely Man

I’ve been living here for almost a year- time flies by so fast. And while it takes away your youth and the ability to recover from a night of drink in a 2 hour sleep, it also takes away your sense of wonder. You just stop noticing  amazing things happening all around you all the time and even living in London starts to seem like the most normal thing in the world. Like something you’ve been doing since you were born.

I’ve noticed that I felt like that a lot recently and made a tiny promise to myself that I’ll stop taking things for granted and really enjoy everything. I mean, I’m pretty sure we’re not staying here forever (well, no one stays anywhere forever, but I’m thinking of the fact that we’ll probably have to move once Norb is a doctor). And today, a wonderful tiny thing happened. A magical London moment, that probably couldn’t happen anywhere else. At least not where I’ve been before. I wanted to take a picture, but it went by to fast. So I decided I’ll start writing tiny tiny stories. Vignettes. (I used to write passionately and I recently rediscovered around a gazillion of my poems and short stories on my backup drive and got inspired… I used to be good at writing. In Slovenian, that is, but I’ll do my best in English anyway. So here’s another tiny promise I’m making: I’m going to write on of these things each week. On a Wednesday, Wednesdays are great days. Middle days. Not beginnings, nor ends and thus perfect for this. So here it is, my first London Vignette:

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a picture to set the mood

The Lonely Man

The Dog is pulling me through the thick foilage, forward and onward to his unreachable goals. I desperately wanted to take another picture of a snail on a tree, but he must have other plans. My hair is sticky and my fingers cold. The drizzle is slowly turning into something even the Brits would have to call rain. I can hardly see, my glasses are full of raindrops, but I can smell even better and everything smells like the most pungent freshly cut wet dress.

The dog finally stops, we reached a milestone. He has to sniff this tiny grassy crossroad before we enter the path by the canal. I try to be annoyed for a bit, but it doesn’t feel right. There’s something in the air. Music. I can’t really hear it, the rain is falling harder, but I can almost be sure it’s coming closer. I wipe my glasses in a desperate attempt to see, as if that would help me hear the music better. But it’s good that I do, because, just as I recognise the song, I see where it’s coming from.

Two narrow boats are driving towards us, surprisingly fast and painfully slow, like only narrow boats can move. They’re tight together and have the most magnificent captain I’ve ever seen. Enevn though the raindrops obscure my view and change the shapes of everything, I can see his burgundy red velvet coat, so different from the grey and green surroundings. I can see his crow black top hat, sitting on top of his unruly dark hair. He might be smoking a pipe or I might be imagine things.And with him travels the song. “All by myself, doooon’t want to beeeee …”

He’s stirring his boats, slowly fast, towards, hopefully, a place where he doesn’t have to be all by himself with both of them any more.

Ps: Here’s a picture of a snail on a tree.

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