Christmas in London. It's all about pink disco street lights, last minute shopping mania and jolly good times. Oh me oh my, every square meter of the city is covered in Christmas joy. I don't know if my eyes are open or closed because lights keep flashing, even in my dreams. In the city you're never truly asleep anyway.
I thought it was hard to find peace in Brussels, with all the distractions, parties, concerts, friends, things to do, things to see. And London is a whole new story. You can't even grasp a tenth of what is happening every day and night, so you plan a million parties and end up falling asleep to Bridget Jones. The next day you rise early to squeeze the bejeezus out of every single hour of daylight. Markets are visited, friends cheeks are kissed. From Soho to Camden to Tate and everything in between. After sundown, my legs float and I moon around in a dream of ecstasy.
Mingling with the crowd is easy in a city where everybody can be whoever they want to be. You can be as extravagant as you like, there is no over the top. I enjoy watching people, especially in the English capital, where people yell out 'darling' and 'love' to strangers. Where bearded men decorate their facial hair with ornaments for the holidays. Where pubs spit out red nosed people in Christmas jumpers. Maintaining gravity in London seams to be harder then anywhere else.
A little ball of excitement explodes inside of me, and I feel the fire of it running under my skin. I am back in the city I longed to call my home for years. I wander roads many times taken and soak it all up. The lights, people, chaos, rudolf noses and jingle beards. The whole thing is just too wonderful for words. The city of craziness looks so dazzling it makes me dizzy. Seeing stars, yelling out: merry merry Christmas!
