Midnight Dance at Covent Garden.

I don’t know why I left the club early that Friday night. The band was great, the drinks were flowing and most unexpectedly, I was sort of being chatted up by a semi-cute guy. But somehow, after my second mojito, it was time for me to get going. My friends were surprised; after all, we had'nt started dancing and didn’t I always say a Friday evening wasn’t complete without a bit of dancing?

Walking towards the underground station, I found myself smiling. It was one of those rare occasions where you don’t know the reason why you are smiling. Or perhaps, you know that there isn’t a reason at all, and that is precisely what makes your act of smiling so special. I take these unexpected, jubilant, reasonless smiles as a reaffirmation of the fact that I am exactly where I am meant to be. I don’t know why I am here and most certainly don’t know where I will be next. But none of that matters, because none of that is right now.

I had almost reached the underground station, when on an impulse I turned back and decided to go for a walk. There were a few drops of rain. Rain light enough to be charming.

I walked around the piazza, with my hands in my pockets. As I walked, I thought about everything, whilst thinking of nothing. I felt lonely, while enjoying my solitude. I walked knowing not why I was walking but because it felt like the right thing to do, the only thing to do.

I turned round the corner, and then suddenly stopped when I heard him. A busker. Telling me I looked wonderful tonight. Eyes closed, he sang with fervour, intent and sheer delight. A captive audience of five looked on. They were all smiling. I wondered if they knew why.

I felt his music in every way that it is possible to feel music. The rain was a bit heavier now. But neither the rain nor the strange looks I received from some of the passers by were going to take me away from this dark, magical corner in Covent Garden where I found myself dancing for no reason on a Friday night.