Walking along the South Bank today I paused by a jetty that juts into the Thames. Five years ago (almost) it was one station in an adventure on Valentine's night that I was involved in making, a night of almost alchemical serendipity: nobody died; they made the boat in the nick of time; it was a mild, clear and moonlit February night; three pairs of people met and fell in (some kind of) love; although not made for any reason but the love of it, it catalysed pretty much everything that I find myself doing now.
Today there is one tiny memento of that adventure, a small and well-weathered loop of string that five years ago (almost) had something tied to it, itself now long gone. Spotting that trace, doing a double-take, felt like some kind of magic.
It's there, in the centre just below the lowest rail.