Comes a new day flirts a fresh story.
Already after these first 20 days I lost grip on my day to day impressions.
There is absolutely no way I can remember all we did and experienced over the last few weeks.
The writing is a hope, a care and a pleasure I share.
Misunderstanding perhaps that even tiny stories can't be told without any effort.
The missing chapture. Lack of ink. Drowning memory. Anxiety, I bet. Excuses.
Empty pages these first hours of a brand new adventure, an episode so short that pictures could tell more than my sentences.
My sister said to me, write it down, this is your first line about your arrival in London.
Fire alarm. All guests are alarmed and forced to leave the hotel immediately. While W starts pushing me towards the corridor, I think of another, similar incident two years ago in New York, in a hotel just a few steps from Ground Zero. I am too sleepy to come in action, not alerted yet by the screeming fire alarm. Seconds later we're all together with the other hotel guests outside in the streets of Fitzrovia. Calm. Sirenes. Ambulances. Police. Hotel staff. People in pyjama's, smoking their first cigarette, wispering, shivering in the early morning glory, kids, parents, couples. A variety of night ware. No fire, no harm, a signal at last to go inside again, back to sleep or - as we do - straight to breakfast. Pretty bizarre start of the my first day in London.
Already after these first 20 days I lost grip on my day to day impressions.
There is absolutely no way I can remember all we did and experienced over the last few weeks.
The writing is a hope, a care and a pleasure I share.
Misunderstanding perhaps that even tiny stories can't be told without any effort.
The missing chapture. Lack of ink. Drowning memory. Anxiety, I bet. Excuses.
Empty pages these first hours of a brand new adventure, an episode so short that pictures could tell more than my sentences.
My sister said to me, write it down, this is your first line about your arrival in London.
Fire alarm. All guests are alarmed and forced to leave the hotel immediately. While W starts pushing me towards the corridor, I think of another, similar incident two years ago in New York, in a hotel just a few steps from Ground Zero. I am too sleepy to come in action, not alerted yet by the screeming fire alarm. Seconds later we're all together with the other hotel guests outside in the streets of Fitzrovia. Calm. Sirenes. Ambulances. Police. Hotel staff. People in pyjama's, smoking their first cigarette, wispering, shivering in the early morning glory, kids, parents, couples. A variety of night ware. No fire, no harm, a signal at last to go inside again, back to sleep or - as we do - straight to breakfast. Pretty bizarre start of the my first day in London.