Saturday, October 04, 2008

Brick Lane is on fire

I got a little drunk last night. No surprises. Around Angel. I could not be able to cycle back to Streatham Hill from Angel, it would take me about 1.5 hours and it was cold and late. A friend from high school that I had not seen for years made a generous offer, opening her house to me, saving me from a miserable night. A beautiful house it was. We made detours walking there in the late hours of the night. Last night I was not good with my orientation. Surprise. Last night you could see the stars over London. At one instance I went out of the house where the party took place, saw the stars and sent a message to couple of people. He replied, but she did not. A Turkish guy came by my side, I told him about the stars. He called his "sweetheart" and told her that you could see the stars over London last night. He got a sweet reply. I got a little more drunk.

I woke up. A cup of coffee gave me the kick-start. I got on my bike and cycled down to Shoreditch. Breakfast on Brick Lane was the idea. B. did not pick up my call in the beginning. At my 3rd attempt, he decided to wake up, but 15 minutes later he told me that he could not get his ass off the bed. On one of the side streets on Brick Lane, at the corners of Code and Pedley Streets, someone put a large waste bin into fire. The dark smoke filled the side street and clouded over the adjacent rail tracks. I went into a bookshop, got myself a postcard. Then I went into a croissant-coffee shop, fetched some breakfast. I smiled at the girl at the counter as I put my order. She returned with a really nice smile. I talked to my sister on the phone, and walked by Spitalfields City Farm, said "hi" to the mules.

The ambulances rushed into the fire scene. A shopkeeper shouted across the street: "Fire is good. If you didn't have fire, could you smoke all that shit?" I smiled at him and cleared the pieces of ash from my red jacket. I checked back at the fire spot. It was put out and people seemed to be a bit more relieved. Some of them looked indiffirent, some looked proud to be on the scene at the right time. I looked like I was interested.

Rain started to drizzle. I got on my bicycle and rode through Commercial Street. When I needed to turn right towards Bishopsgate, a car stopped duly to make way for me. I smiled at the driver, he noticed. It took me an hour from Brick Lane to get back to Streatham Hill on the pedals, and I sweated like a mule.

P.S. London, you are confusing me.
P.S. 2. I need a small digital camera if I need to have better 'captures' of you, dear London.

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