Whenever i get the time, i always wind down by spending a day in Kew Gardens, taking photographs and drawing the plants and landscapes. There is always this one particular spot i go to, where its completely secluded and if you're there around 6pm you can see the sun set directly centre in between two huge willow trees. It was perfect, and i wanted to capture it on film. I have never seen anyone else in this area of the gardens, and never expected to, especially not him...

At this spot, there's a bench, dedicated to a 'Mr John Walthorpe - devoted father and husband 1928-2007', i always sit on John's bench, and feel i have some sort of connection with him, as if we're watching the sunset together.

As i made my way to the bench, i saw a shadow there, someone was seated allready, facing away. They were male, looked fairly tall and had a black beanie hat on with locks of hair spewing out in all manners of directions. I had never seen anyone here before, i think i expected that i was the only one who knew about John's bench, and the perfect view of the sunset.

I had two options, to leave this person, forget about my sunset, and my shot and walk in the opposite direction.

OR

i could accept that this wasn't just my turf, and take the photo i'd really come for.

I started to walk towards the bench. As i edged closer i realised that the figure had two books, one was open, and looked like a text of some sort, (prose maybe?) and another was a small notebook, with scrawly handwriting in it. I guessed he was a writer.

I decided i could atleast make some sort of conversation.

"ahem, you're in my seat" i said in a jokey tone.

the figure turned round, obviously startled that someone else knew of 'the bench'

"excuse me?" It was a low gruff voice, but hinted towards a good upbringing, pronouncing each letter with clarification. British, like me, but posh, his voice seemed to caress the vowels.

His expression was tight, as if he had been abruptly broken from deep thought, which he had been. His face was rough, his skin almost looking grey in the dim light, his hands were worn, workers hands and of what i could see of his hair, it looked like it had not met a brush in a considerate amount of time. He should have looked weathered, but the subtle blues in his eyes gave his appearance a softness that turned his face to look pensive, rather than troubled.

Those eyes pierced through me those eyes... I was sure i recognized that face from somewhere....

i quickly brought myself out of my daydream and back to reality

I smiled and shifted on my feet

"It was a joke.. i just, ahem, I've been coming here for a while, and never once seen anyone but myself on that bench"

his face relaxed, and i thought i saw his mouth turn up into a smile as he turned back to face the view.

"So this is your 'spot' too?" he asked, not facing me.

"Well yes". I felt that i was in the clear so proceeded to dump all my bags, books and equipment on the space on the bench, next to him.

He did not move, but his eyes shifted from his book. I continued to stand and started to set up my tripod.

"What's all this?" He asked. His tone appeared friendlier, accepting.

"Just all of my photography equipment, art stuff, everything"

he did not say anything, but his expression appeared more inquisitive

i replied to his unasked question " the sunset, i came to take a photo of it falling between the two willows"

"huh" he looked down at his book again

i couldn't read his face to tell if that was a 'huh, thats the shittest idea for a photograph iv'e ever heard of' or a 'huh, thats a good idea, but i know nothing about photography so i'm going to go back to my book'

i stopped preparing my apparatus and looked ahead, at what i wanted to photograph, then looked back at him.

"what's wrong with it?" i asked, turning to him.

"nothing's wrong with it."

"but you 'huh'ed "

he laughed, loud and prominent, i could see his teeth as his face wrinkled into an expression that seemed all too natural for him.

"chill, haha" He leaned back and stretched his arms over the top of his head. I stared blankly at him.

he answered my expression. "if you must know, i only 'huh'ed because i came here to write about the same view, i think it's the best in all of the garden"

he raised his eyebrows at me, as if he'd caught me out.

"oh" i said, turning away blushing, embarrassed about my previous defensive tone. I continued to set up my tripod.

I heard a book shut and turned to see him sitting on the bench facing me, smiling. He's obviously let his barriers down, i thought.

"So, how did you find this place?...Did you know John?"

"Warthorpe?" I aksed "I never knew him, no, but i think i do now..... i don't know how i found it, i guess i was just wondering one day and stumbled across it..You?"

"About, the same, the stumbling i mean. Bit of a wanderer me." he paused, then looked thoughtful "i get what you mean about Warthorpe though, never knew him, but somehow, coming here, makes you think that your sharing the view with him, like you have something in common"

I stared at this man,who was staring into the distance, and suddenly realised how interesting i found him. He was gorgeous.

where did i know him from? I loved how conversation between us flew so easily and I didn't even know his name yet.

Before i thought to ask he looked out towards the view and said "should be ready in about half an hour, i think. the sunset"

"mmmm", i looked towards the sky, "I came a bit early"

I looked at the sky and tried to remeber all the colours for future palettes i wanted to mix, when a voice interrupted my thoughts.

"you got a light?" he asked, a cigarette between his teeth

"front pocket of that bag"

he motioned another cigarette, asking if i wanted one, i nodded and started to walk over to the bench.

He lit both of them in his mouth then passed one to me.

We continued to sit in comfortable silence and took long drags on out cigarettes. I though i caught him watching the way i drew my lips over the butt, but i could not be sure if he was looking at me or not.

I motioned towards his pile of books "What were you doing here anyway?" I asked

His face frowned "i came to write about the view, i told you" his expression turned to a smile as he moved to face me.

I had not seen his face close up before, it was like it had been moulded, structured to fit the frame of his chisseled bones, yet it continued to look so natural and at ease when it spread into a smile. You could not help it but to smile back.

"I know, but why the other books?" i asked

He took a long drag, prolonging his answer, he was thinking. "I don't know, inspiration maybe... I don't really consider myself a writer though, more of a lyricist"

"is that becuase it sounds cooler?" i asked with a grin

"no!" he laughed " only because i think words sound better with music is all"

"i take it you play then?" . I was becoming rather inquisitive, but he didn't seem to mind

"a lot piano, a little, guitar. I was in a band called 'Bad Girls' but i prefer to play solo now'

"and what do you call yourself when your playing solo?" i asked playfully

He outstretched his arm towards me,

"Hi, I'm Rob"

I took his hand and shook it,

"I'm Ella".