Shine on you crazy Dimond!
I sighed, walking down a bright white, even, winding sidewalk. Paul loved nature walks and looking at the animals. The only things are animals in parks don't exist.
Me thoughts were interrupted when I heard from behind, Ding! Ding!
“What?” I asked, caught off guard. “That’s a bell.”
Then, I heard, “Hey mate, coming through.” I jumped to the side, turned around to face the voice, but all I saw became a blur as something passed by like a trail. Then, me vision cleared.
In the far distance, a child is on a red bike. I walked on and saw a house close to the park. “Well, I guess that's me cue.”
I walked across the street to a small red cottage then stopped and counted. “Eight bikes. What's going on at this house, a party? I'll just meditate on the door. Oh, I'm too excited!”
I knocked on the door, hearing the sounds of children’s voices, and a very upbeat older voice. He sounded British to me. Who, or what, was I walking into?
“Oh, hello,” a man in a cheerful British voice said, opening his door for me to walk into his little red cottage. His shoulder-length dark wispy curls covered his eyes to the top of his long-pronounced nose. I couldn't denounce his sensual lips though looking serious at the moment. I stood there engaged in something strange about this thin soul. “Did you come to play, too?”
“I guess you are new. No matter. What strikes your fancy?” He gestured for me to come in.
As usual, I always tried to take up an invitation and followed the man through a short hallway into a large purple living room with one couch. Now I know where those children came from. Me eyes saw some paintings on easels. One child sat and wrote at a faraway drafting table, and another child sat on a yellow couch and fiddled with a guitar.
The man went over to one of the painters and said, with bravado, “More bright colors!” and then, he went over to the other painter and examined it like he did the first child and said with drama in his voice, “Yes! Yes! I can see where you are going with this!”
I stood in the middle of the room. This bloke with the hidden eyes in front of his curls reminds me of a teacher. He asked me if I wanted to play?
At that point, the man came over to me. “Don't be shy. Let the inner whimsical child come out.”
“I was just looking for me friend.”
“We are all friends here, mate. I will introduce you to me students.” The man put his hand on a little girl's shoulder and said, “This is Carol, a very intuitive artist, I might add, and next to her is Mary. It's like you can see right through her paintings and, over here at the table, is Ralf. He is working on his first song.”