Dear London, 

It is as if all life has been drained from Soho.

As if Piccadilly had suddenly dimmed its screens.

As if every bench is occupied by an invisible threat.

As if there were no lighters to be found in Camden.

As if the shopping in Portobello do not burn wallets anymore.

As if the Sheperd Bush peddler had snuffed out his incense.

As if all the mugs were broken to forbid us to drink a pint.

As if Greenwich meridian measures where the world ends.

Time is change so we have to be patient to let it unfurl.