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Travelogue G1

November 18, 2015

My flight met with turbulence over the channel. From my seat, I watched the land bob with the plane’s movement. From above the water, I could see both island and continent and tried as best I might to hold at once both sides in my vision without losing sight of either. Glued to the portal, I must have seemed a strange sight to my seatmate, a German fellow whose considerable girth spilled over the armrest between us. The channel crossed, the plane regained a certain steadiness and eased into the slow descent into London City Airport.

An hour later, and none the worse for wear, I stood before the front door of my residence for the weekend. I noted that, of the numbers adorning the buzzers, not one font matched another. Serifs mocked sans-serifs, and italics called out boldings. I then climbed the stairs to Flat 4 and its high-ceilinged interior, complete with moldings and bare hardwood. My things safely in the assigned room, I spent a few minutes exploring the sitting room.

There, I attempted to reconstruct its occupants from the furniture, possessions and knickknacks arrayed more or less haphazardly about the room. A painted blue cat in a leopard spot frame particularly resisted my efforts to integrate these people into any one of the various character models with which I was acquainted, so I abandoned my task and went to the window.

The sill, piled high with unread mail and brochures, opened onto the summer garden surrounding the building. Sufficient light came in through the single pane to blind the onlooker, such that I had the impression that the garden drowned in the midday sun. Still at the window, I tried to parse the greens before and find their place amongst my mental catalogue. The lawn and shrubbery rather recalled a hedge maze that I had either glimpsed in a painting or from a memory of another summer day some years before behind Hampton Court. For their part, the leaves and blooms joined a green hue that I had seen still earlier in a revival tent at a local fair where I had pleased the preacher with my answers and gained access to brighter, more esoteric hues which remained elsewhere in my mental catalogue.

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