The global village is having brunch

photo-34My inner flaneur is excited, jazzed: it’s early morning in the city.  The morning mist is burning off and the hot sun rising over manicured Marylebone.  The haute bourgeois are resplendent in their Sunday rituals: expensive coffee, French pasties, a buffed well-being.  A woman applying her makeup in the sparkle of a window.  A three-year-old boy in glasses and shorts by the name of Bonsy is called after by his parents.

Certain things have stayed the same: the low red brick buildings, the high street, the news and crescent circles and private gardens.  A low hymn is issuing from a church.  The organ, mournful and meditative, is a vestige of a tradition.

The inhabitants have changed.  Every second conversation sweeping me along is in French.  Every third Spanish.  The capital of Europe is London.  Right now, the global village is having brunch.

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