London

was dazzling today. My little car and I chugged and chuffed all the way to the middle of the city, windows and roof open to the sky, opening up to the fingers of sunshine clawing their way onto my face and into my hair. Classical columns soared their way up to the clouds, flags flapping in the wind, and the hot, heavy smells of the city swirled around us, like the water disappearing down a drain. Faces jangled along the pavement, voices hollered, shouted, murmered and mumbled around me in my tiny, dashboard fronted planet, distant but connected, flying yet grounded, a part and apart.

London - the city of Dickens and Pound swirled around my head. The buildings towered over me, reminding me of my impermanence. The architecture, Edwardian in one street fights with the modern 50s monstrosity in another, in its own way a reminder of the damage of war, the scars of bombs falling in the streets, of previous Londoners reminded of their own mortality. A city with a story, a city with a history, and a city of a future.

London, talk to me.

Minerva