Maybe It's Close

Green chair overlooking the Pavillion. White trainers are too bright. Cappacino and cakes. White haired shapes sit on deckchairs. Snippets of conversation catch my ear through the silence. Middle aged man in a black shirt gazing ponderously at TV guide. Voluptuous black lady. Cappucino, sugar, breasts. Two Indian ladies glowing sapphire. Black sunglasses. Small white trainers tapping feet. "I like his brain. He's a drug counsellor". Ugly pigeons hover. "It's hard work". Red faced bald man in white shirt sitting mysteriously behind long black hair lurks his companion. She is not as enamoured as he. Unhappy fat man in a maroon jacket gazing inside himself. Frowning. "Not that far, just a fifteen to ten minute walk". Music starts playing somewhere in the distance. Recovering cancer patient eats her cake. "I've only ever been there once". Child sits on mother's lap playing with instrument. What is she seeing? Music adds poignancy to an otherwise uninteresting scene. Old lady, red lipstick sits down, glad of the rest. Obese man with a stick hobbles past. The sun tries to break through the clouds. Music, pigeons and people all blur into one image. Groovy jazz tune gets people's feet tapping slightly. Whistling can be heard over the clattering of dishes. "Because I'm not daft. I was like ok. Yes thankyou. Maybe it's close".