How nice it is to sit at a table in a small, cosy restaurant, a cup of coffee in your hand, gazing out the open door to the street beyond and watch people as they come and go, pass you by. The click of heels, voices; some low, some cheerful, laughter, the ring of a moble phone. Some loud.

Give some people a mobile phone and they are transformed as if their life ambition to be a town-crier is suddenly realised. You try to tune them out, especially when sitting close by. You don't want to hear her monolog, but you find that you are skipping the section on stuffed pasta shells as you browse through the menu and avoid anything remotely resembling asparagus and when she finishes her call and leaves, you feel as if you know her intimately enough to wish her well and hope that her sex life improves once her husband gets over his vasectomy. (Apparently, no scapel is needed.)

The little restaurant suddenly seemed quiet, I was aware of the music once more, soft, relaxing.
"t'invoco ancor in sogno con me..." I drifted and sipped my expresso enjoying my first day in town after an absence of ten days.
"Cia, Marco!" Cutlery clinked, a cork popped, a baby cried, chairs scrapped the tiled floor as someone rose and left.
"Would you believe what he..."

More snippets of conversation, fragments of peoples' lives. Strangers touching briefly. Lines from Longfellow crossed my mind;

"Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing;
Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness;
So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another,
Only a look and a voice; then darkness again and a silence."

Beautifully poignant, isn't it?

A lovely day would have been a wastedopportunity if I had not taken a short walk along the river to feed the swans and geese. Swans are beautiful birds; they are proud, graceful, regal, but the Canada Geese have become my favourites. These birds are such friendly characters, with no nonsense airs or graces, gathering around you at the first rustle of a paper bag, and all the while there is that constant mumbled quack as if chuckling to themselves.