This is where I am supposed to be

The balcony breeze whips my blinds back and forth. Engines rev from eleven stories high. Not a fan of heights, but the view. A quiet buzz of dull traffic. A low chatter of pedestrians below. I close my eyes and allow myself to be lost. To be still. A feeling that seldom comes around in London. I do not know the quiet. Just the noise. I pause typing; maybe I can allow myself a break. But only briefly, to rest. I imagine I am in a countryside. In a cottage – no noise, just solitude. No Tesco at every corner but I think I may prefer a local grocery. A local post office. A local butcher. A town of people, and we all know each other. A community. A beach only fifteen short minutes away with a brisk walk. I stroll to my favourite cafĂ© and they already know which coffee to give me. People smile as you walk by. You say hi though you never stop for conversation. Perhaps tomorrow. Perhaps then, I will ask them their name and what they do. I perch on a bench on the pier. Coffee in hand. See waves that whip each other instead high-rise blinds. See seals splashing in the water, instead of people fighting in the street. I breathe in, and the fresh air fills me up and I take it readily. I look up and see clouds passing and, at once, I feel this is where I am supposed to be.


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