Mirror app, bad light, someone watching. That is the commute. Warehouse to a night out, carriage as dressing room. This city gives you no pause.
Tag: overground
Date night maths in this city is unhinged. We sat down already behind. London charges you for arriving. Then it charges you for leaving too.
London is useful for that mood. Pavement, pace, no eye contact at all. You can finish a whole private argument before the next packed overground.
Good coat, dead eyes, fashion week spillover on a Tuesday. Then the doors open and we are all just late. Glamour had a time limit.
No eye contact. Fast feet. A whole argument finished before my stop. This city is rude and useful. It lets you disappear while staying public.