It was another world, enchanted, one step removed from the road, the pavement, the traffic, the people.
A green dome under an implacable grey sky.
I expect the people passing by thought I was mad.
Or maybe they never noticed me - drivers would have their eyes on the road ahead, walkers would have their focus turned inward to whatever is on their mind.
It was too cold to linger.
Just a few moments' thought, to connect with fragments of memory; bits of poetry, half-forgotten images
before the cold pierced through to my skin
and I turned to face the weather, and slowly pace myself up the hill
The tears in my eyes were from the cutting wind.
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