Two days this week I've woken to an etherised view of London. A grey haze rubbing the window panes.
I've walked past closed sawdust pubs to the morning tube and joined the lines waiting patiently at just the right spots on the platform.
By evening it has all changed. A bright yellow splash across the darkness and those same market-side pubs spilling animated people onto the pavements. Just one more before the bus or train home.
This London is only a stone's throw from the Thames, and with all the signs of a pickup in the beat.
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