I read. I snooze. I smile in the dark; revelling in a full, horizontal stretch on a comfortable bed; so appreciated after sitting upright, in a dilapitated winged tin can, for ten hours. Usually a clock-watcher, I am unfettered by my usual routine.Traveling alone & across time zones has defeated the bossy power of the time-piece. My World, My Rules!
I should be tired, having been awake for more than 24 hours, topped by roaming Hyde Park this afternoon on foot.
Kensington Park, Hyde Park; Peter Pan, Pirate Ships and freedom loving Parakeets; Swans a-swimming and Brits in deck chairs. The criss-crossing paths each lead to a new vista, between architectural trees and glimpses of man made beauty.
4 am and I've turned on the light a dozen times to jot down fickle phrases that wing fleetingly through my thoughts. I must scribble them down or accept their loss. My plastic Cinderelli sharpener has reworked my stubby pencil several times.
Light out again, in my hotel room, overlooking a private park-square. My ceiling soars higher than the room is wide. The elaborate plaster crown moldings follow along the two original sides of what must have once been a grand reception room as individual notes punctuate the quiet outside and join the rising day's chorus.
A few fast footsteps flap, flap and fade as a small dog staccato-barks his opinion. One slow car, there and gone again, one mouse squeak of brakes as another rounds the corner to follow the geometry of the square, bridging the gap, only a few hours wide, left in between, since the mellow basso curl of smokers' voices, reluctant to relinquish the warm evening to sleep.
In this ambiguous limbo, one man's late is another man's early.
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