Thirty six days of London.

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Dear London,

It’s been one month and six days since we met. It was fast, wasnt it? It seems like it was only yesterday that I’ve arrived, yet now I’m about to have my midterm holiday.

Being with you is not that hard. It didnt take a lot of effort to inhale and breathe your spirit —I can even put on my tube face now (as Metro puts it: sleeping, but with your eyes open).

But London, you’ve taught me to be hostile and I hate that. You and your people are polite, but somehow I couldnt find the politeness welcoming. Last week, I met this french guy I’ve just met once before. We talked only for a bit and there, I felt something I’ve been craving from you —warmth. Having someone saying bisous to end a warm conversation just reminds me how nice acts of random kindness and spontaneous warmth towards strangers are.

Or maybe, I just miss your neighbor, +33, too much. Maybe I’ve been expecting you to treat me like she did few years ago and it’s been hard for me to accept that now that I’m an adult, nobody’s gonna come up to me and go the extra mile to make life a tad more comfortable for me.

You also remind me of what I started to forget —that Adam Smith is wrong; nothing will just get better eventually. You remind me of what have happened before, a few times, actually, and that what I need to do is just to put on more effort, faith, and positivity.

London, I dont know what will happen in the future (even in the near future). I dont know whether what I’m trying to do now will result in good things, I dont know if I can endure everything happening in my life and my head, I dont know if you would turn nicer in coming weeks or month. I really dont know, but I guess I have to fake it ’til I make it, right? Believe that everything will turn out right and let God and the universe conspire to make it true?

It’s been one month and one week. I still have many more weeks to come, many things to do, many people to meet, and of course, many words to write. And yes, I’m not tired of you (yet?). As Samuel Johnson says, when a man is tired of London, he is tired of life; for there is in London all that life can afford. I hope you already have your surprises for me lining up because (I guess) I’m ready to receive those.

Love from your eastern part,

A.

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