Coming out of Liverpool street station wearing flipflops summer slacks and a brightly coloured hoody I was greeted by the evening stampede of commuters whose eyes rarely deviated from the floor, some so intent on their phones no doubt twittering their intentions to their unbeknown neighbour – that it was a miracle how spaces were not violated.
That space, those circles that Londoner’s surround themselves in has really taken the wind out of my sails. It’s like being at the zoo, observing a freak show of sapiens behind the safety of bars with a notice reading do not approach. Like a large thriving mass it feeds on decadence and paranoia, the novelty has worn thin, my enthusiasm waned.
I have thoroughly enjoyed myself, been out way too much, met loads of people, yet interestingly enough it’s been a rather hollow experience, few can step beyond those circles and past the bars.
Looking forward to returning home to Gomera, yet at the same time torn to stay – the pressures of Londoner’s are beginning to play on my conscious … ambition …or brainwashing … it’s certainly a greyer outlook on life.