And in the corners I'm getting lost, that is unless I'm getting found.
Demember 4, 2005
7:27 pm.
Starbucks Visit #3
Gloucester Rd.
I'm sitting in Starbucks, as usual, on Gloucester Rd (the 2nd one, across from the tube station), reading my book, trying to pass the time, waiting to go see a film at Piccadilly Circus.
My music has been blaring into my ears and I have been pretty engrossed in my book, so I haven't been aware of what is happening around me. In between chapters I look up and make eye-contact with an extremely attractive young woman. Her skin is the color of dried grass, brown and yellow. Her hair looks like chocolate and glistens when she speaks.
My eyes move down to her mouth and, as I lip-read I realize that she is speaking Spanish. I take my earphones out so I can hear her language materialize, coming forth from her lovely mouth like molten lava. After listening to her for awhile I notice that to her right a group of Indian women are congregating over cups of hot chocolate and soya lattes. They, too, are speaking in their mother tongue.
I continue to survey the area: The middle-aged man sitting with his mother, who has just poured a bottle of water into another bottle of water, is speaking some Eastern European language, which I think is Russian. Behind me: non-English speakers. Parallel to me: non- English speakers. A lady seated perdindicular to me is on her mobile phone speaking a language I can't distinguish. I can, however, tell that she is speaking to her lover. I know this because of the inflection, volume and tone of her voice. Also, because she is whining.
I'm the minority, which feels great. I stop and listen to all the diversity, and it sounds like a symphony.
A man just walked in carrying a plastic bucket over his shoulder like a handbag. I can see that he has stored belongings in it. Tools. Necessities. Clever guy.
What's with Starbucks and Annie Lennox? Recently, every time I enter a Starbucks I hear Annie Lennox on the stereo, singing about her sweet dreams and how the rain is coming again, falling on her head like a memory.
7:27 pm.
Starbucks Visit #3
Gloucester Rd.
I'm sitting in Starbucks, as usual, on Gloucester Rd (the 2nd one, across from the tube station), reading my book, trying to pass the time, waiting to go see a film at Piccadilly Circus.
My music has been blaring into my ears and I have been pretty engrossed in my book, so I haven't been aware of what is happening around me. In between chapters I look up and make eye-contact with an extremely attractive young woman. Her skin is the color of dried grass, brown and yellow. Her hair looks like chocolate and glistens when she speaks.
My eyes move down to her mouth and, as I lip-read I realize that she is speaking Spanish. I take my earphones out so I can hear her language materialize, coming forth from her lovely mouth like molten lava. After listening to her for awhile I notice that to her right a group of Indian women are congregating over cups of hot chocolate and soya lattes. They, too, are speaking in their mother tongue.
I continue to survey the area: The middle-aged man sitting with his mother, who has just poured a bottle of water into another bottle of water, is speaking some Eastern European language, which I think is Russian. Behind me: non-English speakers. Parallel to me: non- English speakers. A lady seated perdindicular to me is on her mobile phone speaking a language I can't distinguish. I can, however, tell that she is speaking to her lover. I know this because of the inflection, volume and tone of her voice. Also, because she is whining.
I'm the minority, which feels great. I stop and listen to all the diversity, and it sounds like a symphony.
A man just walked in carrying a plastic bucket over his shoulder like a handbag. I can see that he has stored belongings in it. Tools. Necessities. Clever guy.
What's with Starbucks and Annie Lennox? Recently, every time I enter a Starbucks I hear Annie Lennox on the stereo, singing about her sweet dreams and how the rain is coming again, falling on her head like a memory.