Walking the Pages of London

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Today, I walked the pages of London, or perhaps, a more appropriate descriptive, with merely a nine hour window, I sprinted through the pages of London, visiting many old friends--Parliament, Buckingham Palace, War Memorials, Westminster Abby, Big Ben, St. John's Park, Hyde Park, the Serpentine Pond, Kensington Gardens, and the Duck Pond, a special favorite, why, I'm not quit sure, but always provides a sense of peace, serenity. Although much time has passed since last we met, and both of us clearly marked by change, like old intimate friends, whom after many years of separation come together as if time has stood still, I felt once again wrapped in the warm comforting arms of London.
Like the crisp winter weather, cool, breezy, yet sunny, my emotions seemed mixed, a blending of past and present, spring and winter. With regard to present, happy and content to be once again surrounded by the essence of old friends, Kipling, Lawrence, Mansfield, Woolf . . . and new friends Lewis, Winterson, Barns, Smith . . . all, whom I continue to love and enjoy, but also, in the presences of old friends, with regard to past, saddened and sorrowful for all that has been lost and cannot be recovered, and all that although the possibility of recovery exist, still remain lost. So true is the statement that "one always wants what one cannot have" or, in my case, in numerous ways, had but can no longer have.
Nine hours in London worth every penny, an invaluable commodity.

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