A couple of months ago my across-the-hall neighbour and I were walking home from South London and as we passed a church, I pointed out two creatures limber-ly scrounging in the corner of the yard. Orange. Sleek. Foxes! We were so stunned about the appearance of the pair. It felt like a favorable omen.
The fox, as a little research unveiled, and its fire-ey orange colour can signify passion, desire, intensity, and expression. We saw it as a positive omen of creativity, stealth, drive and intelligence. A special moment.
And then, last night, I was walking through London Fields and a creature crossed my path. What was it. Gingerly jogging across the grass, stopping to perks its head in my direction every now and then. A pointy dog with a bushy tail? No! Another fox! These urban foxes of London are trying to solidify themselves as my personal omen or something. Another very special moment. Omen-ous. Portending.
And I smile at the wily ways of nature and the universe.
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Riding to work a few weeks back at around 8.30am there was a fox happily meandering down the payment of New Oxford St, right underneath Centre Point, completely oblivious to the rat race of office workers around him.
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