Landing    

The streets of London carry the scents of cigarettes and traffic dust. I stood by traffic lights in a haze of jet-lagged confusion, staring at the white walking man – now green. Oh yes, this is Britain. Once walking, I noticed I was singing, and moreso that I was dancing with each step. Life has changed. And so, on waiting for my friend, my host, to arrive home and let me in, I danced on the doorstep. The traffic warden joined briefly, then the builder. My friend’s friend arrived, he commented there was somehow more about me than 2 years ago, and I realized that this current cocktail of Leela in London is an entirely different recipe. Phew.

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