waiting

Waiting for spinach ravioli, I sat in a corner table in an empty diner and sipped Sencha. The disconnect of  Diane Keaton in Justin Bieber's music video on a large TV screen and "Dance Monkey" blaring from the speakers behind a counter confused my brain. I could feel a similar disconnect with the time and space inside the diner and outside. 

The owner of the place had left to the back room. All by myself I sat very still, feeling kinship with the chairs, tables, paintings, vases, and salt shakers. Inside it was light and warm. With the darkness outside it looked more like night fall than five o'clock in the afternoon. From the large window next to me I watched the cars speed in both directions and people hurrying down the street, the wet snow thickening and wind picking up. 

A little delivery robot plodded past the window. Small and powerful, it was determined to move to its destination on the unevenly cleaned snowy street. I smiled and was tempted to wave to it. People in Tallinn love these cute, white, little, multi-wheeled characters. They greet and talk to them and sometimes ask whether they need help. The robots are surprisingly resilient even in the difficult weather conditions. 

I took out a notebook from my handbag and jotted down the key words to be able to remember later. The tiny notebook's black and white cover had Moomintroll and Snorkmaiden floating on the clouds. Hanging over the chair I had a totem bag with another notebook inside. This one was A4 size spiral notebook with a ruffled owl in pink framed glasses looking knowingly from the cover. The pages of this new notebook waited to be filled with my writing for the "Secret lives of words" writing workshop, the first lesson starting in less than an hour.