Hyde Park. Beautiful, like Central Park, but with a better name, and divided by The Serpentine River from its other half, The Kensington Gardens. I’ve witnessed endless University Art student photo-shoots as well as people taking lunch off-work to be at peace, and I’ve seen an army of runners pass sweaty and empty-handed, many while I walked behind a teenage girl riding hopelessly slow on a Penny board, pushing mongo. It’s already drizzled, twice, occurrences between which a four year old challenged me to a sword fight with some rather healthy-sized sticks, though unfortunately I declined. Finally the leaves have begun to decay and I’ve gotten my first honest whiff of autumn. Brilliant.
I’m posted up on a bench writing this, mostly because there’s a lady-writer some several yards (alright, meters) back the way I came with handwriting almost as poor as mine, and so the timing seemed fit. Well, it compelled me to sit down myself and test her judgement, and I’ll be the first to say that the scene’s slightly more ideal than I let myself believe at first. To tell you the whole truth, I wish I could write here that I Typically Like To Write In Open Places–places with a whole lot of depth, and view–but it’d all be garbage, because I don’t know the places that I like to write. I don’t have what some might call a writing niche. And so I’m glad I’ve popped my squat on behalf of this middle-aged lady’s handwriting because it really is nicer along here than I thought. It’s literally a straight path in both directions, and the trees lining this path of separated benches are symmetrical in height, width, and distance from each other–like a hallmark card, but slightly less ornamental. Which is nice.
Anyway, I naturally hope that the lady-writer realized the place’s quality in a similar light to how I did before she sat down, but it’s not likely. I was caught up in skateboarding myself before I saw her sitting there writing, so I’m one to talk.
My mind’s always attaching itself to something arbitrary whenever I’m in a pretty decent setting, which sounds anti-climactic, but isn’t. Not entirely. See, before I made it to Hyde Park, back when I was over on the Kensington Gardens side and before all the rain, I crossed quite a big opening and had the opportunity to survey the greater area. The park looked big enough, but what really got to me were the few distant skyscrapers surrounding the park’s massive boundary mixing in with an array of cloud shapes and airplanes, giving the whole mass of it a sort of snow-globe feel. It sounds crazy, I’m sure. But it’s these subjective observations that make wandering or exploring with an open mind valuable–even if skateboarding occupies that void between the aesthetic moments. And the wandering abstract doesn’t cost as much as a museum ticket–though you do have to work if you truly want your mind open to the subjective. Trust no accuracies, if that’s what it takes–even if that means shutting your self out; if only to wind up offering a stranger a large stick in a compulsive effort to duel.
Can’t say that I’ve gone that far over the edge myself–but I say try. Try and lose yourself, if only momentarily. If it works, you’re rich.