london remains. the london of my dreams, of my trembling knees and chapped lips puckered up for a kiss hello. of that sticky-floored bar with the smiths and of that cigarette outside, wrapped in tweed and a forlorn gaze. of the dry wit of friends and humorous introductions from drunk strangers. of music so young and so old at the same time.
presents wrapped in red and gold paper on a cold morning, slipping on iced-over pavement and running after the last bus, eating kebabs impatiently and guffawing through full mouths. christmas dinner and leftover turkey cranberry sandwiches on challah bread. long tube rides into town with headphones firmly jammed in, reading discarded Metros and staring at women in long fur coats and thick accents. smoking out of the window of an attic, looking back at him, sitting in his room, in his childhood home and feeling so much love, so much that i could only either giggle or cry. dancing to music i thought only belonged to me and then being delighted when i wasn't the only one joining in on the chorus. the giddiness that comes from belonging, finally, to something. even if just for two weeks.
london remains my friends. and it better had.
hope you all had a great christmas and new year's too. you know mine couldn't get any better. i can't claim to be anything other than extremely lucky.
Secretly I’m a Texan
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