Doors opened

London. The underground, the business men, the tourists, the buses, the restaurants... London is a grand city. London is busy. Londoners are busy. They work all day long and they rest at the pub, holding a beer.

This afternoon while I was passing by Liverpool Street towards London Bridge, surrounded by angry cars and immobilised buses, I starred at people crossing the street, leaving the office, and I noticed: “They are all on alone. Everybody is walking alone.”

Tonight after my Wine Class on Bermondsey Street, I was cycling along Kingsland Road when a powerful sound stopped me promptly. The sound of traditional music from Eastern Europe, kind of gypsies sounds, inspirational sounds. I laid my bike on a post facing an open window of the bar-restaurant, from which a joyful atmosphere was blowing. I stared there for almost two hours, smoking cigarettes a man had offered me and shivering with emotion under the deepness of the sounds that were reaching me.

I thought London was a big city with busy people. And I thought I was sad to feel alone and restricted, while doors were surrounding me, waiting to be opened. I remembered to always follow my feelings.