The outskirts of cities, or the ‘burbs, are a most fascinating place. An intersection of two competing human interests. Our dumping grounds for the chewed up and rotten souls forever rejected from attaining the rank and file elite; managers, owners, and promoters of a new urban order. A breeding ground for the juvenile and sanguine heirs to the Throne of tomorrow’s problems. A Purgatory to await a judgement from the metropolitan demigods.
In the blink of an eye, the suburbs disappear. As you look down from the planes portal the land turns from green to gray. Sprawling below is the suburban promised land. London, in my minds eye, has always been a caricature for the strains between classes. A colosseum hosting a never ending series of games between The Royals and The Paupers. It’s also a place to drink.
When you visit London, promise me you will eat. Promise to pursue the peculiar; the food carts, open markets, curious combinations, and foreign fare. Do not doubt your culinary compulsions. If you don’t think you can find it at home, pledge you will try it then and there in London. If the food’s not from London, don’t worry, the person preparing it probably isn’t either.
A pint, a show, and get the heck out. Linger too long in London and you’ll either be chewed up and spit back to the ‘burbs, or cursed to stay and live forever fighting to remain relevant.
Images shot on Fuji X-Pro 1 + 23mm f2; Google Pixel 2