Their London

“Here, hold on to this. Don’t want to lose you!” My dad smiled, holding out a tattered grey strap attached to his red rucksack. I held it.

But I was already lost.

The people were so colourful, but there were so many they all seemed to mix into a big grey cloud. I would try to look in their eyes to catch a glimpse of emotion, but they’d just look right through me, others would just look away. Nobody smiled at the little girl holding her daddies tattered rucksack strap.

It was hot. Condensation gathered on the windows of the metro train as people piled in and then pushed out again. I stared at everything. Some people stood so close to the doors that they opened millimetres from their face, then strode out, filled with hidden purpose. Everyone else did the same thing; they held the poles or sat down, swaying with the train. Automatic. They would take out books and huge newspapers in the smallest spaces. Some talked, but not many, this was “morning rush-hour, not a night out”. They were all a part of this big system, some looked down at me and I knew. I wasn’t part of the train.

Then we were there, the sign said Waterloo, and then the automated voice did too. My parents became automated too; they put on those blank faces and pushed for the door. Nobody said excuse me, or sorry. They were a river of people now; they were all a part of leaving the train, except me. I just held on.

We walked through the tunnels of Waterloo.

“Why is the army here?”

“A terrorist blew up that red bus nearby.”


The tunnels were tiled, but the ceiling had been ripped off. Wires were visible, hanging down above our heads. Lifelines for the lights. But I thought it was all a bomb. I gripped the strap tight. There was grime all over the walls, spilt coffee on the floor, posters and posters. And people. Toothless and wrinkled huddled in grimy sleeping bags, they were like the wall. They would look at me, they weren’t blank. They were the wall of Waterloo, and the wall smiled at me.

They told me it was London. Everything was London.

I wondered if I was a part of the clouds and rivers, like they are in their London.


“Forbidden knowledge can destroy mankind. We can grow out of control like cancer under the skin of Mother Nature. Busy cities much alike to a tumor. Too many cells, the residents, the body’s pollutor.” – Raury, Forbidden Knowledge


Personally I think the world is also a body just as our body is also a world. And so to understand one helps us understand the other. If you can understand your own body world, you can begin to heal yourself, from the inside out.

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