granite admiral
lion guards shrapnel punctured
black bronze vigilant
I was at a customer location and from the meeting room I could clearly see Nelson’s Column. Not the ground level, not his four bronze lions, bomb damaged in the second world war, just the jagged outline of the London skyline with his upright stance in the midst of it.
London is a wonderful place, dunked in history, rich areas shunted up against poor, culture, religion, music, art. Despite the abundance of traffic, people and noise, I can disappear there. I can find some peace in knowing I am a speck of dust, unseen, wandering, watching, thinking. I’m not so naive to suppose that others share my experience, I can go home, to D, to be loved and to love.
I know that for some, London can bring sadness, an aching loneliness, that despite all of the faces, some of whom you know will like you, even love you, you will never see them again. Just a split second of eye contact, on the escalator, in the throng of commuters, in the rush of the city. Time.
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