- Four blocks in a row have pedestrian controlled crossing lights and all are flashing green at the same time
- I sneak into a colleague's office before turning the lights on and gaze at a spectacular sunrise
- Picking out the rum ball from a white box of pastries
28 January 2009
25 January 2009
Snippets of conversations heard on a Sunday morning's walk:
- (from a girl hurrying down the street with her mobile at her ear) "oh really? we must have been trying to phone each other at the same time . . . I wanted to talk to you"
- (two neighbours meeting in the street) "I'm glad I saw you. I made a delicious dessert that I want to share with you"
18 January 2009
- After almost a week of thick foggy days, it's sunny outside. Neighbours pour out onto the streets, soaking up the light.
- In the community centre across the street men and women are carefully watching their feet as they move around the room. Salsa dancing lessons have begun.
- The fog was still heavy this morning for my cycling group. We peer into the mist as it swirls and envelops us one by one.
16 January 2009
- A hard week's work in an intensive course comes to an end with a class cheer and promises to keep in touch
- I eagerly stretch my hand out towards the end of the pool after more laps than I ever thought possible
- I fearfully approach a difficult conversation. Later, I recount the situation to a friend, proud of my actions
15 January 2009
- Muffled by the thick fog, cars appear and disappear almost silently.
- The blond lady across the classroom is a private investigator. I day dream about her secret adventures all morning.
- Internal changes never spoken. Mysterious in their growth and passion.