TRAVELMAN LONDON: Dimensional Portholes of the London Underground

I met Abbie five months ago on a slow boat to Laos. Last night I sat with her in a pub in her hometown of London and had a couple. It was surreal to be sitting next to this woman in SoHo. Makes me feel like I’ve traveled a long way physically and psychicly

(My first moment hitting the streets of London. The sky was cloudy and the air was clean and crisp. I live in a storybook)

We caught up and fell into great conversation as usual. I was next to her, yet I began to miss her, knowing I’d only have this meeting in the pub before we carried on with our lives. It’s a tragically warm feeling to miss someone whilst being completely present with them.

We parted ways in the tube, her going north and me central, we slipped back through our dimensional portholes and off into different worlds. I walked to my train feeling the current of quantum possibilities float me gently down the stream.

Merrily, merrily, merrily, I passed through the underground tunnel, the painter’s brush of a busker colored my ears and painted the crisp London air.

...“Sounds of laughter shades of life are ringing through my open ears inciting and inviting me...Nothing’s gonna change my world... Nothing’s gonna Change my world” The busker painted Lennon's words in water colors with fine, melodic, ethereal strokes of her guitar and voice, her work destined to be washed clean of the canvas with each passing train.

I turned a corner, descended a stairwell, and the tired train announced its arrival with a yawn-like roar. I boarded the train and sat. I took note of the cushioned seats. London looked cozy, even on the tube. I exited the train, fell deeper into my state of synesthesia, turned wrong because it felt right, breathed in the streets, tasted the sounds, listened with my eyes, and gazed at the gentle bustle of the day’s last refrain.

(My goodness a Guinness!)

!steemitworldmap 51.5167 lat 0.1326 long Dimensional Portholes of the London Underground, d3scr