Home, where my music’s playing, home, where my love lies waiting

And so, with a bump, I’m back to reality. At least, a mildly hallucinogenic, sleep-induced traumatic reality. This is a place in which I often find myself on ordinary days anyway, so I’m quite prepared for this non-nightmarish hinterworld. Everything’s different in London. Or the same as they were before, but different from what I’ve been used to. Gone are the cars that all look a little bit the same. Gone are the East Coast accents. Gone are the huge boulevardish Manhattan avenues and the insanely vast structures that compose that iconic skyline. Gone is the detached, Calvin & Hobbes suburbia and the accompanying parade of chains and local restaurants. Gone are the wide lanes to fit wide vehicles and the drains with steam rising up and the tenement blocks with fire escapes and the yellow cabs and the snow on the ground and the trolleys and the coconut palms and the food covered in sticky and the pace of life which makes London seem relaxed and the taxi drivers named ‘Juice’ and the highways and expressways and freeways and routes.

Welcome home to sunny Wood Green, a ragtag accumulation of dirt and cheap wealth that I call home. And I’m happy to be here.

*papal ground kiss*


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