I, only seventeen and a novice traveler, was not entirely comfortable in my pronunciation of the name of the river that ran through London, but I loved it.I loved walking along it, being in a city, a modern, expensive, overdeveloped city and looking at a piece of nature that would not easily surrender control.It was a natural power amidst a jungle of created giants and that night, it was the perfect setting.It was sunset, and the sky behind Big Ben boasted colors that I thought only existed on postcards.I walked along the river, safe and dry on my lofty cement sidewalk.The still air rested at that very particular temperature, which made it impossible to sense.There was no warmth and no chill, no boundary between me and my surroundings.I strolled, weaving though the melting clocks of Dali sculptures and still feeling high from my ride on the London Eye.It was strange - to feel so intrigued by a place that millions of people call home, call ordinary.Then I came upon them - two men, one gently pulling a bow over his violin as he swayed - a dance that made music.The other, singing a song so full of passion that I could very easily have believed that it was me whom he loved.My heart swelled. I was experiencing the most romantic moment of my young life, and was alone, save two strangers whose hearts truly felt nothing but hope that I might be moved enough to drop something in the violin case at their feet.
this is where the story ends. i only write nonfiction. i know that many of you, tale-tellers, love to write fiction. please, if you would, finish my story. i hope to have at least a couple of versions - each a lovely collaboration - romance, adventure, zombies, whatever - a collection of little stories, each with the same opening. fun? do it. thanks.
please post your story here (facebook or blogger) for all to read.
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