Bruncheon in Paddington. Back to familiar space: sounds, smells, sights, textures and tastes. We know this well. It speaks peace. The basso continuo flows gently, meandering knowingly through patterns established. Home. Yet no more ours. Still, its benevolent space remains embedded in mind and soul, a soft unspoken clemency.

First to Not Just Coffee. Then the Paddington Markets for round two. How many more appoggiatura will the universe accord us here? Time suspends yet moves forcefully onwards in a contrapuntal dichotomy. Thank, loyal friend, for today. Tomorrow, where shall we be?


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