There are many theories surrounding the etymology of London. So I won't assume that the one definition I found was the ultimate: It comes from an old Celtic word Llyndum - means: "A walled place situated high." Anyway, I don't really care for the history of the word, but thought that this may shed some light on the city in which I find myself.
There is no place on earth quite like London, with it's history buried in the bricks I pass by each day as it hangs on to its past. I have images of people sleeping side by side deep underground in the tube stations finding safety from Hitlers bombs. I am particularly fond of the millions of roof top chimneys that remind me of the rooftop chimney cleans on Mary Poppins. The bitter cold in winter bites at me and I realise the resilience and perseverance of all London's inhabitants.
I must say, for the most part I find it difficult to feel the beauty of this city. There is something quite harsh and unforgiving about being here. It's like being part of a pulse that you sometimes grow tired of. The throb wakes me up, moves me forward and takes me where it asks and I simply obey. How does it feel to desire? What do I want? I'm on the edge of being unable to answer that. Maybe I should ask the 'walled place situated high'? Or maybe I should situate myself like a wall high up and look back down like one of the many pigeons that flock this city and ask myself again: How does it feel to desire? What do I want?
