Back to it. The dust mixed with pretty little dresses. Exhaust fumes fumigating within the confines of human natures beautiful people. The ones that rush shout through amplifiers at each other in confirmation or disappointment. Back to the loud night time noise the ever awake lights of midnight freedom and visibility back to the warm days of screeching tyres and bus sighs. Back to looking anonymously at people on train, shop windows and maybe a second glance in there too. Back to the hip clothes the retro hair and shoes the converse makes us out to look like all stars, its important you know. Back to the important things in life so we are told. Back to youth being dominant in a society suitable for speed and drugs and partying and plans falling into usurped chaos. Back to being on the outside never looking in just getting a glimpse of something through a crack viewing it all as the shells drop. In an eyelid you can see a world of agony and history and laughter but where I have gone back to, that does not exist. I have gone back to the banality of high heels clacking and the smacking of lips on a Friday night. I’ve gone back to the business man in suit jacket - unbeknownst to him crinkled on the back due to bus seat - rushing with the tie not only strangling but flapping in the wearied worried wrinkled up nose face. Even the tourists and free timers and students and millionaires have this face. Contortionists of the nose and lips. They are significant trends to where I have gone back to.
Then there are the memories I have forgotten until refreshment. Walking the same streets again. Say to myself, I remember what happened there before. It trickles back. Amnesia is the wrong word but it isn’t far off from the real sword. Its just I have been away and living for the moment. Truth betold its nice to dredge stuff up from the captains log every now and then. It was bound to happen. So much happened before, last time, these thought processes and visual dreams make it seem like just now and only a second ago that all of it transpired. Maybe it did. Maybe its all déjà vu. Its all because of what I have gone back too. Where I’ve gone back to, who I’ve gone back to. I’ve gone back to the noisy wonderful, expensive, historically beautiful, aggressive, lovingly temperamental fast paced society. Rewire yourself. Gain new strengths and at length re-wonder the streets of heroes, villlains, Holmes and the Queen. Hold the phone, because I have gone back to London
