At the local library, just after 11am, and the winter weather is hitting us with a bang. Rain falls softly on the roof, the bleak grey light coming through the window reminds me of London winters...
My fellow library users - mostly sitting absorbed on laptops - are scattered around on the various seats and cushions. Two standouts catch my eye. An idols hopeful, Mr Beanie (he's wearing a beanie) is whisper singing and air drumming, and I smile to see another human so oblivious to his surroundings. Mr Green Bag (named for obvious reasons) has sprawled himself atop cushions and lays head tilted back sporting a contented snore.
The cash register splutters and beeps, and the cash drawer springs open before clacking loudly as it reaches the limits. The antique sounding phone rings across the shelves of books - and the library staff answer and converse loudly with the caller.
"Ha ha ha", says the library man, "its a great day for ducks, isn't it?" speaking to the caller. "We could reserve them for you online, save you the trip".
In the sheer mundane nature of the library I find myself. Looking and observing, listening and thinking. Wondering how the people that also visit the library today find themselves here, feeling amazed at the unique day that I experience right now. Within the weaved threads of my existence, I think to my self - am I unique? Am I any different to Mr Green Bag and Mr Beanie, obviously oblivious to the world.
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