The Wild midWest

scenes-from-my-hood:

this print is from a series titled “alone in the city.”

and it captures, for me, the brunt of what living in london was like.

i was rather alone in that city.

and it was good for me.

i had visitors—my sister, my parents, ari and peter, other friends who were also studying abroad—but my existence in london was a solitary one.

i am someone who thrives on a lot of time with myself now.  i was not then.  or, at least, time with myself was as unfamiliar as that can be.

i lived in a shockingly posh flat in st. john’s wood with 5 other girls.

it was not a good living situation for me.

there was quite a bit of disordered eating in the house

and a fairly unique set of personalities

and for the first time in my life, i didn’t like my housemates.

i had lucked out in college, from start to finish.

i had wonderful housemates, i lived with the closest of friends.

and here i was, in a london winter, and i didn’t really know anyone.

i made one friend, alex, who i have since hung out with on several continents (notably australia) and that was it. and it was, as these things often are, not the cleanest, clearest male-female friendship on the planet.

i had lunch most days with my coworker siobahn and i confided in her, but she had a partner and children.  she was not going to take me on the london pub tour. my weekends seemed rather desolate in the absence of a visiting friend.

i had never gone to a movie by myself before that winter

nor had i consciously eaten a meal at a restaurant, without even the company of a book.

that year, i did both.  over and over.

i started taking walks, my camera in hand (this might sound familiar).

i went to belgium by myself (i had never spent a night in a hotel room alone before that).

i read sherlock holmes in noisy cafes as the rain poured outside.

i made the pilgrimage to st. paul’s with some regularity—i love that place.

i spent a full day a month at the tate modern or the soane, wandering.

i navigated the city-buses and the tube and the streets- just me.

i found a way to be there totally by myself and be okay.

((sometimes i was barely okay, but i lived to tell the tale)).

on my last night in london i went to the theater, a ticket for one.

i walked myself to get a crepe after the show.

and then i made my way back to the flat.

i couldn’t sleep

so once the sun was rising i headed out to hyde park.

i was giddy to go home.

i picked up falafel from st. john’s wood high street

double checked that my bags were packed 

and the doorman hailed me a black cab to heathrow.

i speak of london so fondly, and i mean it.

it is a city i could live in.  a city i could love living in.

but the time i spent there was not necessarily a happy time.

i was rather lonely.

what is marked is that it was an important experience.

the city is a place i love to visit.  it is a special place, and one i love showing off.  through it all, i love london.

i grew there.

((image via))

This is so familiar.