basementblogs


Sophie Victoria Elliott: Sitting.

I’m sat here, with the window open and light turned out. Listening.

I did a lot of listening today.

I did a lot of walking today.

Walked about an hour and a half through Swansea city center, Cardiff city center and then through to Cathays, down Albany road to Milkwood Gallery. I was happy. So I smiled.

I smiled to myself.

To passers by.

I love watching peoples reactions.

Listening.

Laughing to myself.

I love it when someone smiles back.

I’m happiest when I see a person wraught with anger or frustration or unhappiness and they look up to see me smile.

One small smile; it can lift a cloud of darkness.

Try it sometime. Just smile. I have so much to smile about.

But on my way home I walked through Roath Park. Cutting through the rose gardens and winding my way around the lake. The smell from the roses slowed my stride and encased me in a sickly warmth, brought on by the sun sweating my brow. The pungent power of garlic cut through the sweet roses, thrusting my mind to when two friends taught me to eat the leaves in salad as we walked through the woods on the Gower.

But a humming rumbled through my thoughts, dragging me back to the here and now. I walked on. And on. But that rumbling never ceased.

The drone.

I then realised that where I live in Yorkshire I have a luxury.

Surrounded by fields.

Birds.

Trees.

These are my noises. This is the only relentless rumble I hear.

But Roath Park, steeped in beauty, bathed in a rich palette of green, in encompassed by a road. A road well travelled.

The only relief was the multitude of cyclists I came across. Walking offered me a new pace, a pace where I could observe during the hour and half walking the tens of cyclists I saw. I lost count after 30!

So.

Get on your bike and smile.

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