The Gates to Regent's Park were Open at 6am.

 So I went in. 

 

 Once I got to the pond I turned off the podcast in my ears, because how often do you get to hear quiet? 

 Not silence. The distant pow of geese ricocheted between Ulster Terrace and the Outer Circle.

 

 My new shoes scratched audibly on the path beneath me. New to me, anyway. Twelve quid.

  Maybe they'd once had rubber soles. That would make sense. They've been a bit slippy.

 

 My camera could see better than I could, so now and then I paused to take pictures of the surrounding brown, and see what I was standing in.

 That's what these are. Imagine all of this more invisible.

 

 The bigger gates weren't open, but I don't think they ever are. They're just there to look nice.

 

 It's all there to look nice, I suppose. There's a fountain at the end of this path.

 

 And the waterfall and rose garden, surrounded as they are by vegetation ravenous for light, weren't visible at all. So here's another big gate.

 Far too nice to ever open.