NO EXPECTATIONS

Last night I felt a surge, a need to move… the sight of a recipe for a tuscan bean stew is what had me leaping to my feet, led my hands to grab at my camera, as I wrapped myself in the warmest of outfits. There were no greens in the fridge, bien sûr I had eaten them all, and I needed haricots blancs. My need and desire to put a good meal in myself, to comfort myself, allowed me to put two feet in front of the other.

Face half covered by a blanket of blue, body hidden beneath a mustard down, wide leg green chords flapping about and my hair perfectly coiffed in it’s Purdey-esque cut… by no means was it my chicest of moments but the child in me was content at the silliness of it. I felt comfort when I needed it and was awarded with warm smiles from strangers as I gawped up at the changing sky, my mouth giving way to a smile; stopped in my tracks as out the corner of my eye a nondescript shadowed room was lit by the grandest of chandeliers. An elderly lady stopped me, her bright fuschia lips mumbled something, her face aglow with kindness, I came to my senses and realised she had asked me the way to the metro. I hadn’t spoken to another soul all day and this simple exchange made me move further, with a humbled spring to my step when I had wanted to stop.

Though as I crossed the river I did stop, overcome with the grandeur of this place, of the glow of the sky, the golden hue settling on the water and the sight of my breath in the air. I felt nothing and everything. Like time stood still and I was allowed a moment to realise where I was, to take it in without the noise, the rush, the crowds, the need and want to do, all of the time. I was completely blinded by the beauty of it, it numbed every one of my senses. That is what gratitude can do I suppose.

There was a sense of calm in my ambling, what comes of no plans and the only need being to feed myself. I was aware of bleary eyed parents strolling past, their children having already nearly bowled me over on their scooters seconds before. Booksellers busy among themselves chatting and laughing, even sharing a glass. All of this going on beneath this fiery sky, amid all this history. It's life though, it goes on and you forget, I forget, where I am, what's happened here, that none of this is forever. That warm exchange, my breath in the air, the laughter of children, they're such small things but they're life, things that are happening here in this melting pot. The best thing is, I wasn't expecting any of it when I set out for a tin of haricots blancs and some greens, no expectations whatsoever.