Battersea Park Road

I saw a man from the window of a coffee shop on Battersea Park Road

He was wearing a red poncho and a red hat

He didn’t seem to care, or maybe he couldn’t

and it made me wonder why I cared about what colour clothes

I wore

I didn’t know if he was coming or going

And It made me realise that I never really knew if people were

coming or going

or leaving this very earth in a few minutes or seconds or


Even if it looked like they were coming, walking, dancing,


He staggered, gently

I don’t know if people stagger quickly or slowly

But it reminded me of staggering deadlines

And how when you write

You have to stagger

Only look at the steps





Instead of the whole mountain

Maybe that’s what he was doing

He didn’t look at the end of the road

I’m not sure if he even knew (or cared) where it ended

But he got there eventually

And maybe he was more alive than I’d ever been

He made me question a lot of things.

Image courtesy of Ahmed Drebika

Image courtesy of Ahmed Drebika