I'm sitting in a McDonalds, by the window, looking out onto silhouettes slowly revealing themselves against a beautiful early morning sky. The lights are reflecting in the glass, overlaying the view with a strange otherworldly beauty. It is 6:45am, and I have just had a moment of vague deja-vu.
There is something utterly solitary about this; sitting here, listening to the music as the world awakens ever so gradually. Solitary, and peaceful. The last time I had this feeling was sitting in a Starbucks in Edinburgh, waiting to be picked up to go to work. Before that... I am unsure.
But I remember, I remember... sitting in cafes, in airports, in bars. I remember listening to strange voices, strange conversations, strange pauses and stranger quiets. I remember crowds of people, or near-empty rooms. I remember different views, different reflections, catching my solitude in momentary glimpses. I remember waiting.
Moments like this remind me of being transient, of being still whilst on the move. They remind me of being detached from a normal life, of things that lie at the edges of memory and emotion.
It is 6.57am, and soon the feeling will pass. Soon I will be embroiled in life, in stuff and things and whatever's-going-on. And then, one early morning in the future, I will be sitting at another table, sipping my coffee, catching a glimpse of something half-felt and half-remembered.