on the hill

i prefer to spend my sunday mornings in northern london. if the weather allows me to. i enjoy the journey across town to a spot called primrose hill. the quiet and the tranquility draws me. the park and the view over the city leaves me in a state of nothingness. weightless. thoughtless. motionless. i enjoy watching the people walking. some of them jogging. others just enjoying the fresh morning. most trying to run away from a reality to grim to face. their faces tell the story. as mothers and trouble husbands keep rushing past me. as i sit on my favourite bench. watching the jamaican man teaching the kids football. and observing the soccer mommies in their track suites and trainers. the old man with his dog chasing the pigeons. the pregnant girlies and the mothers with their push trolleys. the buzz in the park is a sight to see. and as i sit there with another tony parsons novel i close my eyes and imagine what life could be like.
on the hill is where i find a bit of myself everytime. i stand there and absorb. there is a certain sense of belonging that stirs in me. not this place. but somewhere. i know that now. sometimes life takes you on a unscheduled detour. at the beginning it makes no sense. you fight. you kick and scream. your stubbornness like a dull pain in your chest. where your heart is suppose to be. you want to run in the opposite direction. but a still samll voice inside tells you to keep going. to follow down the long and dark path that feels completely wrong. but somehow you know the wrong is right. and i sense that on the hill. where my mind meets another part of reality as we know it. i wish i could be more specific. but i cant.
the rest is a blur. the feelings. the thoughts. all of it a blur...all slowed down to a blur.