City Life.

elethe asked why people like living in London, and I left this in a comment. I’m reposting it here, because I like it, and would like to be able to find it another time. If you’ve heard me was lyrical about London a lot before, you can probably skip it – there’s only a limited amount of new material in here.

Things I like about living in London?

I have a lot of trouble with that one. I mean, god, how do I break in to small enough chunks? I like the shops, the museum and art galleries, the restaurants and the pubs and the clubs and the people. I like the streetlights and the neon signs, and the way it never quite gets dark. I like the statues and the parks, the cinemas and theatres. I like the trains and the tube and the buses and the black cabs. I like the ancient churches and the buried rivers, the myths and the ghost stories and the blood and the history. I like the passion and the fire and the magic that’s everywhere in this brilliant sprawl.

And still, that’s not it.

Every day, I wake up in London, and I know there’s a whole damn city of possibility out there for me to live my life in. I can do anything I chose to do – there is no door that is closed to me, so long as I’m willing to do what it takes to open it.

It’s the only place I’ve ever been that has felt like that. It’s the only place I have no urge to leave. I make jokes about how Britain is a kidney-shaped island, or make light of the fact that I travel outside the M25 about once or twice a year, and that only for a few days at a time. But in my heart of hearts, I don’t understand why anyone would *want* to. I can only hope that other people feel the same about where they live. Or, if they don’t, that they’ll one day find a place where they do.

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