I breathe in as i settle down to look at the panorama of grey roofs and green trees and tall buildings, mostly in mist or rain. A solitary runner moves slowly round the athletics track. I remember doing that, 12 laps to practice for the 3 miles (5km?), that was my distance. Did i do it for enjoyment or was i responding to social pressure? Something of both - if i remember correctly... the runner continues.
Now the street lights are coming on. I see no signs of the immense presence or movement of the several million people who must be working and living in or visiting central London this evening - just the sounds of a plane and the sound of distant traffic and of occasional trains. I also hear gusts of wind in the trees and the faint sounds of the inkless pen inscribing these words.
There are three oak trees to my left. They are growing close enough to each other to look like a single bushy tree with three trunks - each about 5 metres from the other two. The enforced cohabitation of vegetables!
Just now as i looked up i saw the moon through a gap in the clouds but now it is hidden again. The wind speed is rising and i think the weather is changing. The clouds look lighter in the west. The city lights look much brighter now and the moon reappears for a few seconds and a bat flies quickly past. It's getting too dark to see what i am writing.
(these pages are designed to be read with the window set to two-thirds of the screen width)
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© 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005 john chris jonesIf you wish to reproduce any of this text commercially please send a copyright permission request to jcj at publicwriting.net