a mouse and his meal

i found a tiny, fluffy feather on the ground while at work today. a coworker told me she has seen quite a few recently which doesn’t make much sense because we work on the basement level of a busy shopping block in central london. 
she told me that feathers are a sign of angels and up until now, that’s the most beautiful thing i have heard all week.


london, brick lane, graffiti in london, monkeys and bananas, heaven, praying to god, monkeys love bananas, city life, american living in london, the ladys guide to adventure, rosalie melin, monkey love, room 479, art, paintings, god

{twas a good weekend in east london}

last night i worked up the courage to feed one of the dirty little underground mice. seeing them in that concrete paradise always gives me so much unexpected delight. i wonder if they know exactly how many seconds until the next train will be coming, via the strength of the vibrations that run up their tiny, blackened paws. do they travel from station to station?

i wonder if they have ever seen the sunlight.

last night i noticed one of these little black mice scurrying about, searching for whatever it is that counts as a food source way down there. with only one minute left before my train was to arrive, it dawned on me that i had stuffed a few croissants into a bag before leaving a coffee shop where they were otherwise doomed for the rubbish bin. excuse me, are you going to toss those perfectly decent albeit slightly rigid croissants away? ok if i take responsibility for their future instead? don’t mind me, for no logical reason i have similar habits to those middle-of-the-map doomsdayers that hoard enough preserved food to last them the first five years of the ever-nearing apocalypse. oh, one of them has been nibbled on by a complete stranger? well, i suppose a partially nibbled croissant will seem like heaven when almost everyone i’ve ever met is dead and i’m eating out of a can of cat food. waste not, want not!
(too far?)

back to my story…

last night, i saw a mouse.
i had the croissants.
i was ready.

by the time i fished out one of the leftover croissants from my tote bag of assorted treasures, i could see the tunnel being steadily illuminated by the nearing train. i made a mental note of where the mouse ran to avoid being run over, and then i proceeded to awkwardly stand around as people pushed into me, around me, and onto a carriage in their tired attempts to get home faster than possible. the doors began to beep in that foreboding way and i looked down at my feet, not wanting to feel pressured to answer to any stray eyes focused on my odd behavior, nonverbally asking why didn’t you join us? do you know something i don’t?

as my train left the station, i skipped up to the yellow line, tiptoed over the yellow line, and began the search for my fuzzy friend who was completely unaware of what treats i had in store for him. after twenty or so seconds of scouring the ground, i simultaneously found the little guy and realized that the station had almost immediately filled up with people who were surely wondering what item of mine could have possibly fallen into the danger zone, although no one came to my aid. to my dismay, the little mouse figured out that he was indeed the object of my desire and he quickly proceeded to run the hell away from me as fast as he could. in all fairness, tube mice probably don’t come face to face with very many humans, despite the busy setting. there are not very many people who tempt the underground gods by leaning over and into that perilous ditchi nearly gave about twenty people and the friend i was with a heart attack when i once crawled down onto the rocks of some train tracks in zone 4.

as soon as he took off, i knew that any reservations i had about embarrassing myself in front of these strangers must completely dissipate if i was to fulfill my quest… and dissipate they did. i sort of jogged, kind of skipped for a while along the edge between the yellow line and nothingness, in rapid pursuit of the terrified creature. finally, the mouse paused long enough for me to tear off a bit of pastry and throw it directly in his escape path. success! immediately, he became immensely curious about this strange yet fragrant new addition to his filthy surroundings. he sneaked, he smelled, he ran away in caution but double-backed to take a nibble.

for a brief moment, i was overcome with several emotions all at once: the joy of my achievement, the melancholy of how rare a gift this croissant must be for him, and the fear that the now-oncoming train might squish the little mouse while he was wholly distracted by my delicious offering.

luckily for both of us, i saw him leap out of sight just milliseconds before the train sped up and over him then slowly halted in front of the platform. if i was the subject of stares from fellow passengers, i was certainly too happy to notice.





{ featured image from: here }

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