Describe a Place - Nikki

Describe a Place: London

Everything about this place is grey but I’ve never felt so alive.

London is overcast, as it usually is, and the pavement seems to blend into the buildings which in turn blend into the sky. I suppose some might want to call it boring, but as I make my way down the road, listening to the idle chatter of men walking to work, of children in school uniforms, of construction workers, of friends, and thinking about the millions upon millions of people who have walked this exact path before us, I can’t help but feel that this particular grey, this London grey, is not drab. It is not dull. It is ancient; it is monumental. I turn my head slightly and watch a man flick a cigarette onto the place where Jack the Ripper might have stood. It’s one thing to read about history in a book. Here, somehow, it all feels more real. Here, I feel as if I am a part of it.

The air smells vaguely of smoke and fried food from the various pubs lining the street. The West End is behind me - thrilling, sparkling, bright - as I make my way towards Trafalgar Square. The narrow street opens up into an enormous concrete clearing. In the center of it all is the monument to Horatio Nelson - he towers above everything, watching over us. I’m on my way to the bookstore across the way but I can’t help but take my time, stopping every now and again to watch a busker perform for a moment, to take a picture for a group of tourists like myself in front of one of enormous fountains that makes Trafalgar Square so beautiful. It feels as if there must be a thousand people here, going about their business just like me, but I don’t feel lost. I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. It begins to drizzle, and I wait a moment before pulling my umbrella out. I look around and see others doing the same. This city welcomes the rain. It is as ordinary as the streetlights or the cracks in the pavement. I watch as the concrete begins to shimmer with the reflections of disposable camera flashes and I can’t help but feel that this is the center of the universe, grey and rainy as it is.

In the distance, I can hear the bells of Big Ben chiming in the hour. It is only twilight, I think to myself. As I head toward the bookshop at the edge of Trafalgar Square, I think about how this city has endured for so many centuries, and only becomes more beautiful with each tick of the clock.