late night thoughts...

I miss London, even when a dull rain drools from the sky on a cold November night.
I miss the mixture of its peoples and races that are a central part of its character, not just an image slipping past you in silent fear.
I miss its understated attire, its buildings at once elegant and reserved, its enclosed gardens, its warm and oaky pubs.
I miss walking along its silent roads, lined with old trees and lit up basements, through which infinite lives unfold in discreet determination.
I miss my friends, I miss watching their lives unfold in front of me.
But most of all, I miss walking around London with one hand in my pocket and the other one brushing against T's jacket.