London love affair
I was sitting on my staircase eating supermarket Greek salad (€ 2,95, feta, lettuce, cherry tomatoes and mayo dressing). My travel bag was gaping wide open. Books, cables, t-shirts and disembodied tube tickets were scattered all over the place and I was waiting for the locksmith to come and let me in. As I was swallowing another eroded feta cube, half dressed in mucousey yellow substance, I realised I had fallen in love. I had fallen in love with London. And this is where I had left my house keys, neatly tucked into a drawer in a cute little flat in the West End. Big cities cause big gaps between people. You may be very special but I'm not coming to see you after the last tube has gone, I read between the lines of random best friends. Coming closer can be a bit of a stretch for many. Not many speak their minds and follow their hearts in the domain of distance. "We like who we seem to be", told me a distinguished Londoner who also doubled as an unemployed talented writer