Twenty-One - James
The square is a pleasant setting, if a trifle immature. There’s a reason for that. It wasn’t here until recently. The stonework is clean and unweathered. The trees lining the walkways are mere saplings, full of promise for future years, future generations. In the March sunshine, their burgeoning leaves are a brilliant green, the petals a pink trying to be white. Given time, they’ll help merge the square and the adjacent park into a harmonious whole.
To one side, City traffic rumbles, buses wheeze and rattle into the station. And from beyond that comes the distant click-clack of trains.
click-clackBut here, the sounds are of the chatter of customers taking tables at the bars and eateries which alternate with art galleries, a small cinema, and the library.
A busker, h
