maybe st paul is a place for us

Tonight I was brave. I left the house, it was three degrees. I took my forest green backpack. In it was my camera, ipod, blistex, a napkin with an unfinished song scrawled somewhat gracefully on one side, a felt tip, and a few miscellaneous bits. In one pocket of my brown coat was a hole and my left hand. In the other was a key, a kewpie, a phone, bobby pins, an oyster card and my right hand. 

My nose was cold.

I went up in the glass elevator to Claire's secret look out. It's really no secret but she was the blessed soul who took me there after we had witnessed a stunning performance of Handel's Messiah from the inside of St Paul's. Her look out let us witness the beauty of it's exterior. And my oh my is it beautiful! Especially at night. Especially in black and white. 

My hands were nearly numb.

Just as I was nearing my doorstep I had a show down with a fox. He stood just down the way, facing me, the two of us stopped still in the middle of the pavement. I slowly pulled my camera from my backpack and he slyly snuck away before I could catch a good picture. Sometimes I wish I was as sly as a fox.