By: Patrick
Stepping off the bus, I felt that old, constricting dread surge through my system. London has had this effect on me for as long as I can remember. It’s as if the limitless dreams and possibilities that this great city evokes in so many flood my system and overwhelm me, mutating into a sour pit of powerlessness and isolation. Naturally I see this mirrored in those I pass. From their transparent stares I wonder if I am really here, an animate, embodied being.
I have always felt I lacked the emotional resources to survive in London, or indeed in any city with a population of more than, say, a quarter of a million. Perhaps with sufficient persistence I could develop these resources, but at what cost? In London, I sense that the dreams that sustain me in my day-to-day life are impossible and this sudden inversion of hope threatens to suffocate me.
But at least I still have the capacity to dream.