TEXT: I would stand, looking up at a different window each day, for ten minutes at 9:14, and watch the girl. My posture was always the same, I was quite careful to assume the correct stance. After three weeks and four days, I noticed, she noticed me. She would stand, in a new frame, looking down on the streets. Her posture was quite similar every time. We were both just waiting, and for those few minutes, the noise of the world around me seemed like a distant hum. When I moved from my vista, I would glance back, and she would have her head up, her curious head tilted. I wondered if she was trying to guess why I was taking note, trying to assess my expression. Maybe she thought I would make a musical composition based on my ritual, or maybe she surmised I was mapping her movements for a piece of art. Maybe she thought I was just window spotting. I wonder what might happen if I were to stop.
“In London, where Southhampton Row passes Russell Square, Leo Szilard waited irritably one gray Depression morning for the stoplight to change. A trace of rain had fallen during the night; Tuesday, September 12, 1933, dawned cool, humid and dull. Drizzling rain would begin again in early afternoon. When Szilard told the story later he never mentioned his destination that morning. He may have had none; he often walked to think. In any case another destination intervened. The stoplight changed to green. Szilard stepped off the curb. As he crossed the street time cracked open before him and he saw a way to the future, death into the world and all our woe, the shape of things to come….”
Text and inspiration courtesy of – http://n4trb.com/London/imperial_hotel_london.htm
Different hotel, same place, wrong time.
The London pigeons were devastated by the loss of their brutal nesting box.