picosgemeos: (Montanhas)
#camden #london #chemtrails

A link from Twitter leads to Jack Kerouac’s thoughts on writing and living in the present. Soon, I'm lost in thought watching the crows outside our living room, hopping from one Victoria Park tree to the next.

On the Overground to work, I listen to The Orchestra of Syrian Musicians and watch the faces of fellow passengers. Sun pours into the carriage, spring a week early.

A letter sent off at lunch time, a walk through Camden in the glorious sunshine. Chemtrails cover the sky, homeless people congregate outside high street bank branches. Very reluctantly, I return to my desk.
picosgemeos: (Montanhas)

Image by Alba Pena Castro

A bank holiday weekend in London graced by sunshine.

A shirtless young man does pull-ups in Victoria Park. Later, he’ll post a flawless selfie on Instagram. A runner stops to catch her breath and check if her stats uploaded onto RunKeeper. Then comes a group in their twenties, sharing a joke. They’ll have something to tweet about in the evening.

All the benches facing the park’s pond are occupied. Happy young families on the paddleboats upload their photos onto Facebook before they’ve even stepped back onshore.

He wonders what’s the best way to synthesise it all for his online journal.
picosgemeos: (Montanhas)
Heading home. Wishing protection and safety for all commuters tonight.

Just before I leave for work, I read a tweet alerting of two explosions in Brussels' airport. It’s a beautiful sunny day outside, the first one this spring.

Train commuters read their free newspapers, already old news. I think of an old friend who lives in Brussels, who had a daughter last year. More news comes in, this time of a bomb gone off in a subway train near the EU Headquarters.  I watch the faces by the train’s doors with some worry. I check Facebook but my friend hasn’t replied to an earlier concerned message.

I then walk down the high street, past Camden Station. Its entrance is like a maw taking in and spilling out people. An unmarked car speeds by, a single driver inside, blasting a siren. An ambulance loiters across the street, eerily silent.

I steer clear of commuters by going down a quiet street. Near my office, I walk past a family unloading their bags from a taxi. They are in good spirits, maybe arriving home after a long journey. One of the young daughters smiles at me so openly and friendly as if thinking ‘isn’t this a beautiful day?’ Her mother wears a hijab.


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