I am sitting in the hairdresser with my daughter.
There is an atmosphere in here.
Feel good music plays in the background, a track from the eighties that would have been on the radio when I was a few years older than Cloud is now.
And overlaying that the hubbub of friendly chatter.
The clack of a flip flop.
The sweeping of a broom.
The building seems silent, content.
Nothing terrible has happened here as far as I can tell.
Cloud is sitting in a shower of hair.
Occassionally we exchange glances.
The hair dresser talks of feathers, razors and blends.
After a while I read ‘Woman’s Own’ and catch up on the plot of Eastenders.
What I feel is that it is hard to occupy my mind with anything serious here for more than a few seconds.
I could not work through, or solve a problem in this atmosphere by any means.
This is a place where women escape.
While this place is about defining looks, it is all about feelings or the plain simple lack of meaningful thought.
So what am I picking up.
In general, a group of people who seem happy with their lives.
People willing to let conversation flow where it needs to go.
Like a bubbling brook.
Clear, sparkling, fresh, bright.
She can speak Spanish.
When did you find out.
See you on the other side of the looking glass,