Sunday, 21 February 2010

Remember You, Like a Child, Girl.

There are two stairways that lead down to the Regent Park station - each, exits on either way of the same road. Two, and I always take one. Just one. And it never matters to me from which direction I am coming from nor which I am going to - I always take the one facing towards the East of Marylebone Road. Towards a particular accommodation. Perhaps because I like it that way, perhaps, because I kissed someone incessantly by that stairway.

But I am a creature of habit, and a silly one at that - so when I took it this time, I took my same old walk across the road, pausing for a moment at the crossing; with my customary glance at a particular window behind me - even though none I know now live there anymore.  And then, it is Park Square East, and into Regent Park. I've come to realise, I've visited this place ofterner than I have my most beloved park: St. James'. Perhaps because I like it this way, perhaps because that first night, we star-gazed by that  byway.

It was sunny today and I was never the one for sunny weather - but it rained a little, and London is never London without its rain anyway. I was visiting my cemetery -  the Rose Garden. There, the rose bushes  all stood cut down, so that they'd grow up again. But it looked like a dead place now. And in the ringed pathway that encircled them, there were signposts that read:

'Keep Smiling' - 'Lovely Lady' - 'Remember Me' ...

I took my customary seat and left a letter I wrote for her by the bench - like mourner's rose on the grave. She'll never see it, it'll die in the London rain - but I did it nonetheless. Perhaps because I am silly this way, perhaps because, here, I left her that day.

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