For there’s something magical in London, tonight.

I stand centred. Knock my head back and breathe it in. The sweet smoke of Oxford street under the bright glow of Angel lights. For once – a very brief second – I am still in an evermoving flurry of traffic. Of people. Of cars. Buses. Those obscenely overpriced rickshaws blaring Lebanese hits. I tread carefully, but brisk. Careful not to stumble. Partially due to the embarrassment I would undoubtedly feel falling to the ground in a spectacular fashion in front of hundreds. But mostly because I don’t want to miss a thing. I don’t need to wander through shops. Just glide through the atmosphere. As though I’m the only one here. But that wouldn’t be fun, wouldn’t it? It’s the people that make it what it is. For I could be anywhere else right now and it wouldn’t feel right. For there’s something magical in London, tonight.

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