If my heard had wings
I would fly to you and lie
Beside you as you dream
If my heart had wings
– Faith Hill
Post-trips, post-move, post-sorting-bank-accounts. And now rest. Rest. Long, languid, sunny afternoons with the curtains open and the breeze wafting in. It is music and tea and biscuits at noon. It is stillness for stillness’ sake. It is weekends wandering aimlessly by the river. It is the near-impossible achievement of finding a quiet peaceful corner in London.
It has been a glorious few days of getting reacquainted with this city. The weather has been perfect, the days have been long. There is time. And though being back here feels like visiting an old friend, being in London and having time is a new experience for me. There was never time. I was running to work, running away… running always. This place is a whole new universe with time.
Afternoon matinees. Sunning in the parks. Picture taking in whole new neighbourhoods. With time, beauty reveals itself in layers. Beyond the noise, the crowds, the exhilarating novelty of all things different, there is a strength of culture here that can’t be found anywhere else and it can pull the rug from under you and take your breath away.
Like this past weekend, during a walk along the South Bank of the river we ran into a humble string band playing beautiful music on the bridge. We watched Brazilian samba in the streets. We perused a used book fair.
It isn’t always a search for something new and different. Sometimes, if you give yourself the time to sit still for a while, sometimes if you give your wings a rest, beauty finds its way to you.
