There are five of us in London: an aquainted couple, my children, and I drifting down the shopping streets on this unusually sunny, well, hot October morning. Though papers tell about the economic crisis, people are hastening between department stores and cafés, in this and that direction, packed with plastic bags. Again and again I am running into them, smelling expensive perfume, apologizing on and on, yet in the end I stop doing so. 'Cause nobody speaks a word on these boulevards.
Gosh, this bus is the one we wanted to ride on! An old bus, one of these with an open platform! One, you can jump on!
I jump on ...
"Are you out of your tiny little mind?" my friend barks at me. Apart from this I had left everybody in the dust for nobody had been able to follow me in this hustle. Nor his wife, neither my daughter. And whether I had'nt thought of my son, who might not have anything else to do but jump after his father. Thank God the boy had been too slow, and they could hold him back. I should have seen how appalled the kid was while looking at me. And they could only catch up with me because the next bus stop was only a hundred metres away, and the bus had to wait there anyway.
"Excuse me", I say. And after a while: "I don't know, what's got into me."
here I was born
here my father died
now I've cut the umbilical cord
Chrysanthemum, April 2010