The sun streaming in through the treetops exposes clandestine colonies of unsuspecting dust particles. It seems the air is crammed with multitudes of minuscule bodies of which we are usually comfortably unaware. At this particular moment, however, I find myself unable to ignore these atmospheric inhabitants. I hesitate, holding my breath for quite some time until the sheer physical discomfort convinces me of the absurdity of my reservations, and I am forced to give in to the demands of my lungs. I have become as aware now of breathing itself as I have of the air I am about to breathe. My lungs begin to expand and are slowly infiltrated by these particulate vagrants, otherwise found milling aimlessly through the air. Disquietening thoughts rush through my mind at the same moment that a million and one foreign fragments rush through my wind-pipe towards the dark abyss.

My focus shifts. I peek into the pond at the coy carp that pique me. Cautiously, as if pondering my intentions, they surface shy and slowly, weaving detours towards the surface. In turns they pierce the dusty mirror of the pond with their comic, pouting lips to catch a breath of fresh air and receive scattered morsels of bread : crumbs of charity which bob like buoys in the wake of ripples racing by. The surfacing images are contorted, lending them unnatural, fickle features. For a while the flecked fishes bask in the warm waters near the surface so sun-spot dappled, and bathe in the sunlight escaping the grasp of greedy growths (Just beneath the surface there is a prolific matt of aquatic vegetation with a voracious appetite for light). Then, finning with finesse gracefully downwards, they become vague refracted blurs lurking in the murky depths. The only hints of life are the occasional, inarticulate stirrings : eruptions of silt-clouds and sediment, perhaps even a momentary orange haze darting in and out of perception.

The birds are out in force today, relentlessly combing the cobbles for crumbs and other nutritious titbits. They also harvest grass grain and other weed seed. For a moment I am entertained by the amusing way in which their heads shoot forwards and then back again with each step they take, and I wonder if this apparently involuntary motion doesn't give rise to many a headache. They have become so accustomed to the wide array of foods available to them - sometimes in the form of discarded morsels considered insignificant and on other accasions scattered with generous intentions before them. It is a happy day for the birds when an eagerly anticipated sandwich falls fatefully from the fumbling fingers of a hungry child. It will not take long before a score of birds throng in rejoicing song and take turns to partake of this providential meal.

Out in force today as well are scores of ape-like creatures sporting skins of such splendid colours and textures as to be beyond equal in all the animal kingdom. These are of course us: human beings foraging for morsels of tranquility. Some find themselves attached by leash to rather unwillingly tethered, wayward noses, overcome with excitement over the immense variety of foreign odours. At any one moment the park is filled with fleets of pioneering hounds on maiden voyages of exploration into previously uncharted territories. Frantically lifting their legs, as if to pen to paper, they map out new and exotic lands, seizing this opportunity to stake their claim.