I loved nothing more than being in the depths of solitude wandering like a flaneur along the Thames by day and by night, overwhelmed with ‘pinch myself ‘moments of living abroad in London as I contemplated the myriad opportunities that a vibrant worldly city like this could offer me. My spirit soared each time I withered away hour after hour just people watching, admiring architecture and photographing anything that caught my eye. My destination on these Thames escapades was often the Tate Modern gallery. Time stood still for me there. I would find myself confronted with paintings that would rip my heart open and stir up an immense joie de vivre. I felt so alive in the company of the these beautiful artworks. I would race up and down all levels of the building, stopping occasionally to rest my weary feet in the Cafe space, before pushing on to get more of an art fix.
On this particular day, I had ended up at Tate Modern after accidentally missing a bus to Cornwall. I was disappointed with myself as I was craving a road trip to the seaside, but was okay with the excuse to spend another few hours in my happy space at the gallery. I sat in my favourite spot where through the big windows I got a peek of the steeple of Sir Christopher Wren’s masterpiece - St Bride’s Church. The skyline offered such a kaleidoscope of old and new and a character that changed depending on the mood and season in which you viewed it .
I was in my own little world on this particular day, probably ruminating about my stupidity at having missed the bus to Cornwall, oblivious to who was around me. I had a notebook and was deep in thought, pouring my feelings out on the page when I suddenly felt the presence of someone standing next to me. Next thing I knew an origami bird (crane) was placed on my table. I froze and blushed as I often do when someone catches me off guard. A tall, dark and rather handsome young man wearing a beret smiled at me and then walked off without a word. I didn’t have a chance to utter anything or return the smile. I gathered my composure and then turned my head ready to thank him and strike up a conversation, but it was too late. This mysterious man, carrying a guitar case, had just entered the lift and in a flash, the lift door closed and he was gone.
I was left sitting there with this little gift staring at me. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed or if he’d dropped more of his creations at other tables, but he hadn’t. I was intrigued and wondered what was he trying to say by leaving this with me. It was a lovely gesture and definitely fitting for a place like the TATE Modern. I thought it’s wonderful that someone is creative enough to make these little pieces of art and then generous enough to just give them out willy nilly to total strangers.
When I got home later that day, I told my flatmates about the experience. My excitable flatmate Pip was insistent that this guy’s phone number was etched into the recesses of the origami paper. She said ‘this is such a hip way of leaving his number’, you have to open it!” My other flatmates agreed. I wasn’t convinced. I really didn’t feel that he was hitting on me, it was just a random act of kindness. However, Pip was quite determined and promised that she’d be able to refold it back into its crane shape if there was no number contained within. So, I gave in to the peer pressure and carefully unfolded the wings, the beak, and unraveled its delicate and immaculate form, fold by fold.
Just as I’d suspected, there was no phone number inside. There was nothing written inside. I felt stupid - not only had I gone against my gut feeling, but I’d now tarnished this gorgeous act of kindness. Pip couldn’t refold it back to its former glory, it was forever mangled and had now completely lost its allure.
I learned something this day. These beautiful kind moments of connection between two strangers, especially through an act of generosity and creativity, are moments that I want to build into my life. Imagine how special it must feel to offer someone a small handmade thing of beauty. Life is about these moments. People do kind things because they’re kind people trying to connect with the world around them, and they should be able to do kind things without people questioning their intentions. This man perhaps sensed I was introspective and thought to brighten up my day, There was nothing more to it than that. Shouldn’t we all aspire to be more emotionally aware of the needs of our fellow humans, and be that person that brings joy to them when they least expect it?