Love, live, love.

We watch a seagull balanced on the wall nine floors up from the café with the best view in town.

‘To fear love is to fear life.’ — Bertrand Russell.

A single seagull sat on the ledge outside the café window, nine floors up. The onshore wind blew stronger up here than down on the street and its feathers constantly shuffled and lifted at odd angles as the wind took command. Its young plumage, a mottle of greys, matched the thousand dry roofs we could see. We were up with the clock faces, a cityscape thrown back in time, with our loved ones, winter coats, our mobile phones, smiles and greetings generous with kisses.

On one roof top a family came out in silence onto their terrace. We could see them through rose-tinted glass. Behind them the city stretched five kilometres back and up the slopes. Opposite us waiters in black trousers and crisp, white shirts balanced shiny silver trays on turned out wrists in the autumnal sunshine, as they served customers lazing on sun loungers on the roof terrace.

Yet another hotel roof. There must be a hundred if I can see ten. There’s another city up here. This city is full of layers.

We sipped our coffee, talking gently so as not to disturb a hangover that had yet to arrive while three-generation-families shared breakfast, interspersed with tourists speaking different languages, some I couldn’t place at all.

We are all different and all the same.

We all chose this most urban view with a huge window revealing the best layers of city life. We all meandered through the toy department to get here, with the latest marvel of Lego tempting bright eyes and early Christmas wishes.

Glitter shivered against the darker shadows of the deep street below, the sun dancing on gold streamers and tassels and ribbons. This year the decorations have no lights. They dazzle in the sunlight or car lights at night. The city is thinking green. We’ve come a long way, the city and I.

We look at each other and smile. I look at him. His silver hair catches the light. He wears age well. His eyebrows frame his face. His hand is warm, his skin is smooth. Decades ago I remember like yesterday holding his hand as we climbed the south-facing hill near the sea, joking about dangerous snakes and discarded syringes. We were not afraid; the chemistry between us melted our fears.

Our children are well and grown up now. I know I am lucky. But this morning he is serious. He’s thinking of his friend who two months ago was sailing around islands single-handed, now lying for the eighth week in a row, in a hospital bed in pain. After his visit he suffers because he felt helpless. He reminds me to live the moment,

‘You don’t know what’s coming next’.

And I think,

‘Live.

Love.

Live.’

The seagull wakes up, stretches its wings. Stands on its pink pencil legs. Looks down at our view. It’s not scared of heights at all. It doesn’t feel dizzy. It fusses and resettles, pruning its wings and finally sleeps some more.

And I think,

‘Love.

Love, like you’re not scared to fall’.

__________

Wishing I’d taken a picture of that seagull. This photo I took yesterday, it’s the most urban one I could find. Yeah, I know, most of my pictures are of flowers or the sea!

Thank you for sharing…

Stories from this week I delved into:

A photographic, seasonal tale, that resonates with me about the approach of winter by Whitney Barkman:

Pre-Winter Magic in the Forest

Susie’s poetic tale from rural southern France, and her beloved hill that she knows like the back of her hand. How the walks and trees and landscape change with time as farmers modernise around her home:

Scattered footsteps.

And Beth’s tales of the trials and tribulations of bringing out her next book. Also about a philosophy from Japanese culture I have been learning about coincidentally. Some of the dilemmas echoed for me as I’ve questioned myself over recent months, trying to get my book just right and wondering how to launch it as this week I await news from the printers and seeing my first ever book in print:

My book needs you!

Wishing you a good weekend.

Lots of love