Wednesday 28 April 2010
A path in London
Sometimes, in London, after crowded train rides and broken escalators with people clambering up them and briefcases swinging and the clomp of heels and the black backs of men in suits in front of you and tinny announcements and school kids’ laughter and newspapers left on seats and shifting queues of people at bus stops and the tight buzzy sensation of static behind your eyes, you unexpectedly find yourself down a little path with a clearing to one side and you realise you’re all alone in this place. It’s a melancholic, refreshing feeling.
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1 comment:
I miss London. I miss how the paper towel I clean my face with before I go to bed turn black and smell funny after a day out.
I miss people stepping on my feet without noticing. I miss business men sticking their elbow in my ear just so that they can read the newspaper on the tube.
I miss all the hooded men trying to sell me drugs on my way to work. I miss the calculating look in the city pigeons eyes and I miss my friends.
I think it's time I came to visit soon.
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