I’m re-entering the stage of de-motivation again and I don’t like it. Overwhelmed with an abundance of content not just on my laptop but in my mind, of topics and projects I yearn to embark on, but my mind keeps telling me there’s no time to do. To live in London is to live a life of imaginary busyness. I don’t like it. A friend of mine who lives in Mexico city came to visit London and I decided to take her to the bridges, almost selfishly because I hadn’t been there since I had returned and I had missed the long walks, but to also demonstrate along the pilgrimage what Londoners tend to do to wind down. Surprisingly there wasn’t much going on. London’s bustling streets were met with silence that day. Having walked this route plenty of times I was almost-surprised to see the space once filled with people lounging around and taking in the skyline, almost empty with passersby speed walking to their next destination. Who has time anymore to stand still and take in the environment that lies before them these days, in the city that likes to sleep?
London's East End.
We’re the city that paces with ease; anywhere we go, we stride with an intention to bounce, because in the midst of it all, you’d want to retreat after being consumed in the crowd for so long. I took this picture at Liverpool street station, London, at the height of the rush hour period. Something about seeing crowds of people making their way through the business of the city soothes me. There’s something vaguely calming about stepping outside of yourself, to observe the external, to watch time pass you by. In forgetting where I was I spent a good hour on this balcony snapping away, and watching people’s uniform movements with one thing in common in all: they were in a rush.