Hot sun on fumes– noise-traffic. Facing you, addictive swallowing.
To condense a City down to this – my summer, London summer – a city through the keyhole.
Green bursts on yellow and the river, always the river, winding its placid way thick through the city. (Rush – tight – chest on pavement – loud device, emitting waves) water you can’t touch when you need it, but it’s there – invisibly pulling suits and sand down to its banks. “Come to me, come- me. Come- me, be near me. There’s no stench. Near, me…”
Get above the city. That intimate unwinding of strangers. Cold-palmed gin islands in your hands. Every pair of glasses- happy. Every girl in a sun dress- smiling. Facing you, addictive swallowing. Cloth burns, voices touch- come, loudly, come, softly, coming- lofty. Sun, hot, fumes, addict city-swallowing .. your love-warmth beside me.
What is your day, “How was your day?” Concert yes, happiness yes a man yes, your stomach yes. Content? Yes. Dinner yes. Where? Home.
Thoughts trace, must think of footsteps, undulating movement and walks by the river. Time is quicker, clatter, wheels, industrial crushed space, travel. I think.
Oh- Home. Key – in lock. Dark. Engulfed. Sudden. Expected. Impregnable. Carpet between bare feet, wallpaper stencil-patterned. Lino- cool. Where is the Sun? Oh. There- the rectangle of pane leaves and light dying bright in the corners. Here it is – the city through the key hole.
But back. Back on the roof, that sun-splashed roof. Your skin. Sun on fumes– noise-traffic. Facing. You. Addictive swallowing. That time. After a concert. A Smile, a Laugh. Water caught every promise below us.
And above- a roof, a garden – where concrete & ivy
Intertwined this moment.
If you like to people watch unseen, I recommend the EcoTherapy Garden on the roof of Queen Elizabeth’s Hall – your very own key hole on London. A concert, an exhibition, a talk, a poetry reading – inside this South Bank centre. Then wander up to the hidden garden above.
In Love&Light FS XOX