I am exhausted (I accidentally quit coffee, cold-turkey) and a bit heartsick. This city is so incredible that you can’t help but feel this impossible sort of love. Sounds dramatic… and it is.

Last night, I was invited to a party at my boss’s girlfriend’s flat out near the University of Greenwich. I took the Northern line to Bank station, and transferred to the DLR (overground tube line).

The line runs through a huge office district outside of the city, glass buildings that are impossibly big. Futuristic. The train runs high above the ground, and the buildings are lit from within, letting you look in as you pass by. It felt like I was in some sort of action movie (Bladerunner 6, starring Rose) and, strangely enough, that tube ride has been one of the highlights of the trip.

On the way back, I overheard a group of friends talking. I guess they were on their way back from a party, at least, they all had that unfocused, tipsy look in their eyes. They were talking about some guy they all knew, and his unhappy marriage, and his apparent confession to one of them that he loved them (shortly before the beginning of his marriage). And the fact that he was a alcoholic. And I felt like I was 8 again, wondering why people have to be unkind to other people.

Today, I drank in the park, because it was sunny, and because you can do that in this wonderful country.

And that is all I have to say.

Portobello Road

I have been:

scoring an art film based on a French philosophy book.
running around British parks.
feeling old.

and, of course, eating cupcakes...