15/01/20 What I saw on my way to Peckham
As the train glides along the tracks, I gaze out of the window at the surrounding great city. I even catch a glimpse of the shard before it is rudely blocked out by greying apartment blocks and niche hipster bars with twinkly lights, the kind that are two a penny here.
I think to myself: "I love this city, but I am so tired of this place."
In the aisle opposite me a man is talking on his mobile, I think to his daughter as he's been asking someone how their day at school has been. For a moment, I'm reminded of the countless telephone conversations I've had with my dad, of the same nature. That is until he apologises to her for mishearing something she's said because he's tired. Does he mean fatigued from a long day at work, or is he referring to the ever present feeling of discontentment that surely must at some point in their lives affect all city dwellers?
Either way, I think to myself as the train pulls into the station where I need to get off, "It's not even 4pm, Londoners honestly."
I think to myself: "I love this city, but I am so tired of this place."
In the aisle opposite me a man is talking on his mobile, I think to his daughter as he's been asking someone how their day at school has been. For a moment, I'm reminded of the countless telephone conversations I've had with my dad, of the same nature. That is until he apologises to her for mishearing something she's said because he's tired. Does he mean fatigued from a long day at work, or is he referring to the ever present feeling of discontentment that surely must at some point in their lives affect all city dwellers?
Either way, I think to myself as the train pulls into the station where I need to get off, "It's not even 4pm, Londoners honestly."
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