It is fifteen years since being alone in London, a place that I love for more reasons than I have space or time to write and the city that taught and brought me love.
I stood in the busy station, looking up at the balcony, as people split off either side of me, bustling onwards on a journey of their own, where-for not even a whole moment in time, our paths had crossed and yet standing there alone, I had never felt more connected.
There is and always was something about such a huge, vibrant and diverse city that almost jolts me back into myself and out of the flat – line, that has me seen floating above my life as an observer for perhaps a little too long.
Like a gentle and curious electric shock from the friction of your nylon clad toes on the carpeted isle of an airplane, I buzzed with delight, with the enormous sense of human connection, that standing slap – bang in the middle of Liverpool Street Station so graciously gave me.
Out of the corner of my eye I looked for him.
Whilst my feet felt firm on the ground and I stood wearing my new decade, like of cloak of clarity, that distinguished who I was before, before him, before them and before you, I still, in the familiarity of this space and place, looked for the twinkle in his eye, that turned the corners of my mouth into an uncontrollable smile and had my every thought of ever being alone, evaporate into a bubble of love.
This time however, like a cool breeze on a hot day, as it gently runs its fingers across your face, before it is gone with out a trace, I was able to revel in the moment, re – live the thought and move slowly forward, allowing him and the hundreds and thousands of inspiring busy little beings, to journey on somewhere else.