Today was one of the dreamy September days when the sky is so clear it brings back the summer memories and, feeling nostalgic, you surrender to the the thought of autumn slowly creeping in. Such days are so rare that to waste them you would have to be a soulless monster.
So I went for a wander. I wanted to find out how far I can walk along the Regent’s Canal going through Hackney. I discovered I can walk all the way up to Islington, then the path closes because the Canal turns into a Tunnel and that is a dark place. I discovered probably one of the most picturesque/creative/cool/surreal places in London. It’s a shame I haven’t yet developed a habit of carrying my camera with me. Regent’s Canal must be a place with less CCTV surveillance than anywhere else in London, because there are some of the coolest graffiti works there I’ve ever seen. Some of them were clearly done from a boat, some of them must have demanded unusual physical fitness and balance, some of them are done in the most curious places, and some of them I still have a picture in my head of, trying to figure out what the actually depicted.
Another exceptional thing about Regent’s Canal is that you can actually see the sky, well, unless you’re under a bridge. It makes me sad when I can’t see the sky because of all the skyscrapers and narrow roads with tall buildings on both sides and because you constantly have to look ahead rather than up not to get run over or bumped into or mugged or harassed. It’s sadly a rare thing in London to see the sky.
If only I had a habit of taking pictures I could have documented the hundreds of house boats parked along the Canal. Some of them have the most bizarre shapes and colors and names and sizes. They have flowers on top of the roofs and bicycles chained to them at awkward angles. Some must belong to amazingly stylish people, being decorated with Moroccan style pillows and shishas, others have most colorful curtains and amazing candelabras. Ah, they all look so bohemian. It’s almost like they don’t belong to any nation or society, they only belong to the river and every boat is an entity in itself. They have no traffic lights stopping them, no crossroads, they can only go forwards, with no turning back. They don’t have a post box, no annoying neighbors, no sales people calling in the mornings. That’s how I see freedom. Well, that’s how I see it at the moment.
On a different note, today I was reminded what home feels like. Well, it feels like waking up in a warm house in the morning and hearing the birds outside. It feels like realizing that it must be a very sunny day because of the amount of warm light sipping in through the curtains. Home is when you walk down the stairs and realize that everywhere you look there are paintings, mirrors, dried flowers, photos, toys and little statues. Home feels like having tea in the garden, staring at the planes in the sky and talking about love, life, drugs and music to people you adore. Home also feels like someone making you a fry up with potato waffles and beans and all. After all this time of living in places but being essentially homeless I understand about having a home now. And I’ll keep on looking for one. There must be one somewhere, right?
