These days of the lockdown, I randomly walk around Hammersmith, Fulham and Kensington. I'm walking on streets that I've never been to before. In normal times I'm using the fastest road to go from A to B and this is a central road, usually. In these walks I'm stopping very often and I'm looking at the flowers and the small details of the buildings. I look at all this craftsmanship. I also see the decay.
I see closed restaurants and I wonder how it was before they close. I think of the people opened them, full of dreams and expectations for the future. I see them preparing their recipes and they are so certain of how good their food is. I see them in their opening day, waiting impatiently for the first phone call or the first visit from a customer. I see them counting the first day's income at the end of the service. I see them making their order list for the next day. I see them again counting their income in the second day, hoping it will be a bit more than the day before. I see their worry when the guests are less. I see their desperation, when they realise that they spend more than they get. I see them try to think what else they could do to keep going. And this is their only thought day and night. I see them the day they realise that they got to go. I see their sadness and depression. I see them in looking for ways to minimise their loss. I see them the day they empty everything from inside. All their dreams and expectations carried away in a van or a truck. I see them the last time they lock their door before they give their key to the owner of the place. I see them relieved saying to themselves "And now what?".
I know how it is. I have been all through this procedure. Inexperienced and naive enough to follow the rules, while the competition wasn't. I spent a whole year trying to keep it going. I got nice new equipment to get rid of the rubbish that the previous business owner used. I was buying the best ingredients in the market. I refused to steal the VAT tax, like everyone. I did my best to make the place look nice. I run out of capital to support my business. Then it was just struggle. I was so sad when this guy came and in reality he loot the whole place for a few Euros in return. Oh, yeah. I know how it feels. I wish I had the experience I gained here in London, back then. Things would be different. I now see all these closed restaurants and I wonder how this space would be if it was mine. What chairs I would have? What I would put in the walls? What food and beverages I would provide? Maybe I'll try again some day, but not alone. Doing everything on your own is so hard.
Back to my walks. I see every building separately. I'm thinking how many lives were lived there. Young couples and old pensioners and financial immigrants looking for a better life. Windows full of black polution dust that only allows a small percentage of the sunlight to enter the room. Some are really nice, with curtains always open and a light on all night to show off how beautifully decorated their living room is. Some have their curtains always closed. Some are just investments. Nobody lives there. A pile of letters and flyers from takeaways and house agencies outside.
I see a lot of nice flowers here and there. They are blooming now. They are so beautiful. I have a strange connection with flowers and plants. I believe they are feeling like animals. That when you show them love, they repay you with flowers and nice leaves. And this is really relaxing for me.
