I don’t know why I love this city so much. Many would tell you it was a heartless place, a ruthless place, a selfish place, but to me, it is a wondrous place.
As a child my father would whisk me through its city smog on Sunday mornings, like a tour guide on crack. Maybe that’s why I love it so much; it was the only time during my childhood that my father and I truly found common ground. As he took me to see the lone palace-guard standing motionless in his ‘secret’ place, we bonded - like a father and son should.
As a young man in my early twenties, I would often take solitary day-returns to the National Gallery, or to sit on the steps of Trafalgar Square and just watch the people pass by. Even now, as a man approaching forty faster than the speed of light, I still consider a day-return to London as an unsurpassable adventure. I still love to sit and watch and wonder, as the people pass me by on its streets still paved with gold.
Tomorrow is my brother's wedding. It shall be the first time in twenty years my estranged family will all sit together, in the same room. I guess that’s why I’ve found myself writing about London today. The place my father and I briefly found our common ground. The place my father and I bonded - like a father and son should.
