Gaia and “The Smoke” ||A Place I’ll Never Forget |Travel Writing

In a land where eye contact with strangers is deemed rude and where public transport is silent, two Caribbean natives explore “The Smoke”. Stashed in their backpacks is the desire for intimacy with nature.

Sitting atop a weeping birch in London’s Hyde Park, we are magnets attracting the eyes and shy smiles of all lovers and loners passing by. We deem it the “Tree of Life”. Amongst its branches, people of all ages and ethnicities climb and swing. From person to person a spirited energy rustles across the leaves.

Thenceforth, the name London no longer prompts imagery of bridges nor shards of glass. Instead, my internal search engine produces pictures of trees, tranquil ponds, and open skies.

The orange wash of the setting sun signals the day’s impending end. Drenched in gold, we are soon running back into the urban world of busy streets and loud sirens. Adventure begets adventure. With urgency, we the golden infants skip amongst century-old castles and cathedrals.

We move lightly through space and time on the Tree of Life’s energy which deposits us at Parliament Square. We spin cartwheels under the watchful bronze eyes of Lords, sailors and humanitarians past. The soles of our feet salute the night skies while our beaming smiles light the way.

Big Ben clangs, and we fall into the damp grass. On the firm Earth spinning through space, two eternal beings lie beneath a full moon.

The grass tickles my ears, and I travel away from my body towards the stars. From my perch in the sky, I sketch the scenery. On the revolutionary grass of Parliament Square lies a girl and her travel companion. Electric happiness is pulsing through their veins. They glow like bioluminescence.

Satisfied with my travels, I return to the Earth. The hands of Big Ben are busy at work. The Underground will soon close, and the rising sun brings trains and planes upon which we have booked tickets.

Once an experience has been had, it remains as a book in the being’s library. A full moon on a clear night is this book’s call card. I set my gaze upon the stars, and there I am once again in the grass.

In reality, we never left.


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