There’s a shop that’s not a shop, which I’ve never visited before.
It’s on the corner of a crossroads and looks neither here nor there on the outside.
I had a meeting there today and must say that I’m glad I did.
I am going to change names because I didn’t ask them for permission and one should always ask. Shouldn’t one?
The first person I was organised to meet was a lovely lady who wants to help those who need it and I shall call her Destiny. For no other reason than it sounds pretentious.
We chatted about setting up a writing group in the shop that I never knew and I’m quite excited about meeting other folk and writing words. She has kind eyes for a bluey. We bluey eyes are normally evil and not to be left alone with, generally speaking, therefore it comes as quiet a shock to see kindness in such colour.
I can’t even look in the mirror for fear of stabbing myself in the cheek bone. Even when shaving.
We soon parted and I looked around the shop that’s never been.
They have free bread for those who need it and areas for creating. It reminded me of hope.
Then it was that I came across an interesting couple. I shall call them Kindness and Philosophy.
Kindness is a young girl of nineteen who has the world in her eyes, from Hampshire, and Philosophy is an Italian ponderer with a big beard and long hair.
They met four months ago and see the world one step at a time.
We chatted about the ego. Philosophy believes that taking time for oneself is wrong, even though he walks alone and Kindness agreed with me that there is nothing wrong with a moment in one’s own head.
We smoked a cigarette outside and talked age and money.
Philosophy told me that I didn’t need to ask him his age: that it would be in my head. He then asked me to guess.
I guessed at thirty three.
Even though he suggested it would be in my head, they were both astounded to hear me guess correctly.
I told him, cheekily, that it was on his head.
We talked some more and I asked where they were going. They said down to Hereford, so I gave them my cigarettes and bade them well.
I only wish I’d had money to offer them, as the sun tickled their thankful smiles.
I still sit here wondering if I shouldn’t have offered them a bed, but somehow I know that they will be fine, despite the pangs of guilt in my stomach.
Somehow I know that we’ll also meet again.
How funny life can be when the sun shines and the heart is open.