After spending the entire day home, slaving over my three articles for the internship, I needed -physically and psychologically- to go out. So, I grasped my purse, put on my new leather gloves and went out.
The streets of London are icy, cold, smoke comes up from the pavement and steam out of my mouth. Christmas lights make me feel like a kid again, although I'm 22 now. My first stop, in the vain attempt to find a book or two I'm supposed to read to write my 1,000 word essay by the 5th of January, is Borders.
Borders...it used to be a paradise of comfort. The book shop where you can grab a magazine, a newspaper, take a coffee at the Starbucks upstairs and just enjoy spending time there. It was always busy, but the atmosphere was friendly, cosy, happily arty. Now, in its we're-closing-down frenzy, the cosiness, the beauty and the relax of it disappeared altogether, leaving just shabby up-to-90%-discount window-sized banners, raging crowds of customers fighting over the last copy of their favourite book and empty shelves. What once was a homey, it's now maddening. Not the ideal place to do some Christmas shopping. Books scattered all over shelves and tables look like displaced people fleeing from a devastated city. The last copy of a novel on a counter reminds me of the typical ugly girl at the school ball that nobody wants to dance with...
In my spree escape I couldn't help but notice that each and every shop had its own special Christmas score. A spate of feeling-good, let's all love each other songs that will put a smile on your face even if you strive to resist. Christmas heart-warming, consumeristic soul slips in your wallet in the most joyful, albeit tricky way. It's in its cheesy melodies, in its glittering lights, in its unnecessary gift cards. Christmas in London smells of business and snow. But it's so contagiously exhilarating that I can't for tomorrow's roaming in the streets of the City. It makes me feel alive. It makes me feel adult and independent, even if I'm not.
Tomorrow's stop: Oxford Street. It might be hellish. But I'll take my camera with me. So if it gets rowdy I'll catch those moments. If I get the right angle, despitethe hustle and bustle I'm sure I can grasp the sweet side of London. I still regret not having my camera with me to snap those footsteps in the snow, still soft and shimmering white, while snowflakes kept flying down from the sky like crispy pieces of diamonds... a couple of days ago, when the City started to feel the Christmas warmth, despite the freezing cold.
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