In people’s eyes, in the swing, tramp, and trudge; in the bellow and the uproar; the carriages, motor cars, omnibuses, vans, sandwich men shuffling and swinging; brass bands; barrel organs; in the triumph and the jingle and the strange high singing of some aeroplane overhead was what she loved; life; London; this moment in June.
― Virginia Woolf
On the 23
The hot fever consumption of Victoriana
A row of ‘Are we dead yet’ portraiture
Close goth filigree
Heartbreaking gold and garnish …
This is not what London is.
A jousting match
Lovelorn beauty pageant
In the snag of traffic yesterday
The black cab army fought hard, but couldn’t choose sides
They threw up their hands and rolled away.
Stand shoulder to shoulder
against the pain and the sirens
Walls of memoriam … lilies afloat
London’s the salute and the river.