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Full Moon over Regent's Canal
Mar. 10th, 2009 10:00 pmWhen the day reaches 6 o'clock and the sky is still blue, you know the worst of winter is over and we now only have warm days (and rain - perhaps) to look forward to. From where I sit in my new office, I look into an apartment building courtyard (a modern version of Hitchcock's Rear Window - including half-naked men who like to talk on the phone by their curtains) with a good chunk of the heavens.
As my last colleague was leaving today, I pointed out to her the spacecraft that was rising into the sky beyond the courtyard, much like a rocket, its cloud tail a bright pink colour. It wasn't heading towards us, it wasn't flying away - it simply moved up, joining other speeding crafts that left their own tails. A little bit like that Twilight Zone episode where the housewife stops time with her magic necklace once she sees nuclear rockets crossing the sky.
I take the Regent's Canal path home. It's dark by then and I've been notified by my colleague's txt message that the moon is magnificent. And it really is, shining over the canal and guiding my path. There are hardly any bikers or joggers so I can enjoy my loneliness a little - Suede followed by The Smiths in my ears ("Cemetery Gates" reminds me of the scene in Watchmen where they bury the Comedian by a tomb angel with very sad eyes.) In the mornings, this path is filled with bikers rushing to work. I hear stories of people who've been pushed into the canal after confrontations, including a mother with a baby. These bikers aren't as gutsy at night - they probably take well lit roads, the cowardly bastards. And you never see any women here at night, I think to myself just before one profusely apologises on a wobbly bike as we cross paths under a narrow bridge.
As my last colleague was leaving today, I pointed out to her the spacecraft that was rising into the sky beyond the courtyard, much like a rocket, its cloud tail a bright pink colour. It wasn't heading towards us, it wasn't flying away - it simply moved up, joining other speeding crafts that left their own tails. A little bit like that Twilight Zone episode where the housewife stops time with her magic necklace once she sees nuclear rockets crossing the sky.
I take the Regent's Canal path home. It's dark by then and I've been notified by my colleague's txt message that the moon is magnificent. And it really is, shining over the canal and guiding my path. There are hardly any bikers or joggers so I can enjoy my loneliness a little - Suede followed by The Smiths in my ears ("Cemetery Gates" reminds me of the scene in Watchmen where they bury the Comedian by a tomb angel with very sad eyes.) In the mornings, this path is filled with bikers rushing to work. I hear stories of people who've been pushed into the canal after confrontations, including a mother with a baby. These bikers aren't as gutsy at night - they probably take well lit roads, the cowardly bastards. And you never see any women here at night, I think to myself just before one profusely apologises on a wobbly bike as we cross paths under a narrow bridge.
