Sunlight

Two years ago today I made my first trek back into London post Covidity round 1.   Now, I am sitting in the lobby of a hotel in Gaeta, waiting for a taxi, waiting...waiting. 

Everywhere I went that first day, people were kinder, more gentle with one another than I ever seen to recall in my 17 years in the UK. There were actual conversations, behind masks, or behind the plastic screens, even in fierce sunlight.  I felt in the cusp of something beautiful.  I suppose it almost was but it came at a hefty expense. 

The quiet still cleeves to the City at night. Everything is different and everything is changed. The stillness is familiar, that stretch of time in 2005, in 2012. But those moments had a trigger. This feels more like the time I pulled the pin out of my hand grenade and waited for roar.  

Alexandra Palace still shines in the gloaming. The good people of Muswell Hill still walked their dogs and debate the merits of the local gourmet deli over Waitrose.  But the world has shifted and it is not imperceptible.  I guess Garcia Marquez was correct: we really do live so many lives in a moment.