What I love the most about London
is the fact that nobody cares.
No one looks at you as if you were some crazy stranger just because you are dressed in a different way.
As soon as I close my eyes I feel like I’m right back there. The sand under my feet and the wind blowing around me feel as deceptively real as the air smells like the salty sea all of the sudden. I hear the skateboards hitting the concrete and a distant chatter of life – Venice, my love, I’ve missed you so much it’s unreal. It took me so many years to meet my big love finally for real, altho i knew already that it would break my heart one day. How many times I’ve been talking about this city, without being able to prove them, how sure I was about my words – and how many times I had to let people mock me about it. And it’s not that I didnt have the chance to visit my kryptonite earlier… I just wanted to do it the right way. No halfhearted seven days vacation, no hotel rooms, no stupid tourbusses. That’s not how you get to know a city, thats not real, it’s just the pathetic rich-kids-dreamer-version.
I wanted something entirely different, i wanted to feel it so I know, what it is like to really live there, simply because this city deserves it. I always knew, that it is, where I belong. So I refused ’til I could do it my way. A whole month, five blocks away from venice beach, living in a house and driving a rental, cooking instead of going to restaurants all the time and not taking a single fucking guided tour – just being there and exploring it all by myself. And it didn’t only measure up but exceeded all my expectations.