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strolling & thinking
Two stories ago I posed the question ‘what happens to the soul of a city when the heart gets ripped out?’
Well, last week I was told of a riot in Shanghai, this was forwarded from Scotland, the story not the riot, it told the tale of how people confronted with the choice of having their homes bulldozed down, and not given new homes, stood up and well…kicked off. Their homes were, of cause, flattened, so they decided to do some flattening of their own, not knowing the full story I can say no more.
Anyone going to ‘docklands’ in the east of London after 18.00 hours, will experience a feeling not unlike that of, an english ‘out of season’ seaside town, the ones Morrisey sing about. Maybe in time this will change.
Now,… when I stroll down Xintiandi I get stared at and the feeling of ‘always wearing the wrong clothes’, gathers momentum in my crowded brain, no one says ‘Hello’, even if I know them…and, when I walk through the ‘Old Town’ people always stare, but they say ‘halloo’ and ‘hello’ and even ‘’ello’, some will even chat, these are people who have never clapped eyes on me before, this too happens in London, although there, half the time, you really rather people not bother, if you get my drift.
But you are ‘Safe as Houses’ here and there, except sometimes houses get knocked down to make way for….what?
So…whats going on? And why do two streets next to each other have people with such oddly different ideas on …well… me? And therefore life as they see it.
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