The art of biking in Hyde Park, learning to ride on the left side of the road. The art of handling new gears while not hitting the Ferraris on Bayswater Road. The art of trusting the mechanical engineering abilities of the talkative Peruvian handicraft and bike salesman at Portobello Road. The act of not hitting dogs in Hyde Park, of not getting lost around Westboarn Grove, of not buying half priced wine at Sainsbury’s, of looking the right way when crossing the street. The art of knowing how much a cup is. The art of personal and public transport of feelings, work, living and clothing. The art of leaning back in the airplane seat, disregarding the couple in their forties with their peanuts and childish Iphone games, and closing your eyes while accepting the turmoil. The fear of losing touch, for a moment evaporated among the dark clouds. The note in your agenda: “moving to London the 28th of January”.
Deflated Impressions 