Only Just Begun

Parks, Thoughts and Promises

It had been a week since Jerry left the hospital, and the change was unmistakable — both in his body and his spirit. He felt lighter, more focused, as if he were finally breathing deeply for the first time in months. Every morning, he laced up his sneakers and ran through the streets of Stepney Green like it was a sacred ritual — a way to reconnect with the world, and with himself. It didn't take long before he began to uncover the hidden little wonders of that East London neighborhood. His favorite spot, without a doubt, was Stepney Green Park — a quiet oasis tucked between the city's concrete, where history seemed to whisper through the trees.

It was hard to imagine that this peaceful patch of green had once been the stage for historic events like the Peasants' Revolt back in 1381. Centuries had passed, bombs had fallen during World War II, streets had been built and torn down... and still, the park endured.

Today, with its neatly trimmed grass, blooming flower beds, and benches placed just right, Stepney Green Park was a haven for everyone: children laughing, elderly folks deep in slow conversation, teenagers wrapped up in casual meetups. Jerry ran through them all, headphones in, his heart slowly finding its rhythm again.

Another place that had completely won him over was the charming and unexpected Stepney City Farm — a real working farm tucked right into the heart of the neighborhood. It felt almost surreal to be in the middle of London and come across goats, pigs, chickens, and even a donkey with the saddest, most soulful eyes.

Some of the animals belonged to rare breeds; others were just looking for a bit of affection. Jerry, who had always loved animals, felt like a child again. There was something deeply moving about the simplicity of that place — a place born from the resilience of a community that refused to let it fade.