London

The sweet, sticky smell of chow mein from China Town punched me in the face as if i were in a boxing match, fighting my opponent.

Bright red buses impatiently waiting for the traffic lights to turn green, waiting to continue the long drive through this city of madness. Sharp beeping pulled me out of my gaze, it woke me up and told me that if I didn't cross the road in the seven seconds I had left to cross, then they would make no hesitation to squash me like a chocolate chip pancake.

Being in London is like being in the eye of a storm, everyone has places to go and has things to do before the night ends the energetic day. Many different facial expressions get plastered onto these so-called strangers, some happy, some sad and the occasional drunken-dazed, floating through the clouds look, has to be my favourite expression. The people make London, London. The city I love.

The old newspapers are scattered around the concrete ground, dancing around with the traffic gusts and re-settling back down. Paper bags join in dueting with the newspapers flying up high to the sky every time a car races past, before picking a new spot to land.

There's a feeling of cold raindrops, lightly tapping at my warm skin the feeling is refreshing and calm.

Bold colours of umbrellas start to show all around me the pinks and the yellow colours reminded me of the flower shop back at Bond Street, an old lady had picked up an array of pink, lilac, and, yellow tulips. I had watched her admiring the beautiful flowers as a smile formed on her wrinkled face.

Insane skyscrapers suffocated the sky, I can see mini people working in stacks all up in these buildings of business, they are typing frantically. I had assumed they were writing newspapers and not the kind to dance with the traffic, but kind to be absorbed into everyone's crammed brains. Big title pages that pull you in and make you buy one of them for when you sit down and have an americano with a mouth-watering jam donut.

I can taste my salvia, swishing my mouth for hydration, the rumble of my stomach lead me to believe I was hungry. The sweet, sticky smell of chow mein from China Town alarmed in my head, delusional seagulls started to squawk for attention; they wanted food, dive-bombing random tourists as they tuck into their lunches.

Borough Market was loud, the colours were loud, the people were loud. The laughter of people lights up the atmosphere. I can hear conversations in every language and in every tone. Food market stalls men shouting for people's attention for what they were selling.

The air was full of flavors ranging from Mexican Churros to Korean BBQ meats, strong salt and vinegar blanketed the air with a hint of caramelised peanuts. I had escaped the maze of famous foods and was now sitting on a wooden, dark maroon bench, facing the Thames. The calmer side of London.

Silent sea breezes pushed my hair past my shoulders, the relaxing waves playfully crashed on repeat like the songs at parties. A little girl in a flowery dress walks past holding a pink teddy bear, her delicate smile made me feel warm and loved.

Scruffy dogs were being walked with their loyal owners, in the distance I can see the sun playing hide and seek with the stars, hiding behind large buildings, weaving in and out of each technical structure.

There's a faint tune of a piano and a woman's voice busking on the other side of the Thames, her voice whispers in my ears, slowing my breathing. I sit and appreciate her hard work, my mind was at ease.

The sun was asleep and the moon had woken up for the nightshift ahead. The city however wouldn't sleep, new faces had arrived ready for the midnight memories to come, the best memories are made here, in this city. My city. London.