Clearing to my writers block

A woman with some food in her mouth was feeding the pigeons in the park I just walked by, don’t know if she was eating ice-cream (based on the box) or the bird food she wad feeding the little feather friends. She looked happy, centered in where she was either way. 

I have the day off, this Monday that most people are stuck at the office (yes, I know, Lucky me) and I decided to got to the Regents canal lock, one of those places in London that make me feel a bit closer to home. 

Theres two guys fishing at the lock edge, what they catch from the water dont ask me, but it probably looks like it was born and bread in Camden. Tug boats that drive in throw in the ropes, and tie the boats to the poles, only to shortly continue their journey. Im in the middle of it all. 

Just had a flat white and the danish here in the sun, a female body builder just got up from her sunbathing and an Asian man told a curious by passer that his bulldogs name is Godzilla (no joke). A young man in a suit is sitting on the lock gate, a couple opposite me are making this their Ibiza. Theres a Carehome on the other side of the Canal, former London workers enjoying the waterside garden.

Theres not too many people, just a few, a girl is singing in Spanish and playing her guitar closer to the bridge leading to Angel. I can hear the waterfalls, I cant hear cars. I guess here I feel quite centered too.

Lately I`ve been having a bit of a writers block, its either been too hot, to noisy, I felt restless or tired or simply temporarily lost my belief in my writing skills. But for my next project, as long as the weather stays like today, I think I've found my spot.

I have a few poems on my mind, an next to complete bit from the airport and then the big one, a book Im thinking of writing. And here, where those two worlds, the stressful city and a thrown rope line washed in with some waves meet, feels like the right spot. Thats what the book is about, those two worlds merging into one-another.

But now my butt cheeks hurt, the rocky lock edge is making its mark. Im going to get up and have a walk. One I get back right here Im going to write a poem and then continue that story if I still can find the mode.