Hospital

Its my second day in the hospital under the surveillance in telemetry ward. I'm sitting in my bed on the 7th floor, looking over the rooftops of the houses across the square. I love London, it has always had a certain charm with its old townhouses, crooked back alleys, quirky attic apartments. Its a medley of my fascination about Dickensian-Victorian London and seeing my mum reading novels by Barbara Cartland (an later following her footsteps) about young love an life of aristocracy in 19th century England and London.
And now sitting in bed, gazing out the window over those narrow metal staircase curling and winding up to the attic floors of the houses opposite my window get my old fascination stirring and imagination is taking flight.
I know, I know my Dear Void, there is nothing special happening in those houses, just everyday people living their everyday lives, but I cannot help wondering what happens behind those windows, what sort of people climb up these narrow stairs.
I turned my gaze out the window to see the big snowflakes slowly falling and twirling down on the bustle below, it doesn't reach my window, its quiet here and I can enjoy this temporary solitude, looking over the rooftops and letting my imagination fly with the falling snow.