A touch of London

The winter wind stung at my face. chilly. cold. freezing. As I buttoned up my coat to venture further, I cannot help but feel my emotions change. All my fuzzy warm feelings of sitting by the fireplace with my hot cocoa is now replaced with cold wind and eerie creepy silence. Its all so surreal. having come back to face the gloomiest season of the year. to ride in london's tube and reminscence of the times I had someone by my side to chatter and banter with. to remember the lonely walks back to my warm hut, leaves crunching underneath my boots and creepy shadow following me in the dark. waiting to pounce on me. a jack the ripper thrill. ignorant of the dangers that lurk around for i was too busy concentrating on the intensity of winter air that is bitting into my skin.

The lights of london dances with excitement in front of my eyes. mesmerising me. holding my breath hostage at the magical sight of christmas lightings. I knew at that instance that there are somethings my heart cannot reason with. its a thrilling chase and a wondrous time to be back here. to have come close and yet not able to have it in the palms of my hand. i know how complete my heart is when im back in london. its a feeling that no words can describe. as though as the darkness and emptiness has been shone at and filled with the hustle bustle of city life. the craziness and the hype of being in one of the most happening capital of the world.

My journey ends a week from now. to give up the yearnings of my heart and to move back home is something i never prepared myself for. i am sailing out into an unknown sea again whereby not knowing when i am going to see this land again. the vibrant metropolis. the city that shook my love for it. keeping me coming back for more.

When William Wordsworth wrote "Upon London Bridge" he could never have imagined that it could become even more beautiful.
William Wordsworth (1770 - 1850)Composed on Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!


Having felt it, touch it, lie beside it and live in it awhile, London is like a big dream come true. a dream that I never want to wake up from.

(NB: photographs are taken by London Photographer, Jason Hawkes, from a helicopter at night. From Jason: "Shooting aerial photography during the daytime had its own difficulties, you are strapped tightly into a harness leaning out of the helicopter, shouting directions through the headsets to the pilot. If shooting in the day can be difficult, night and the lack of light causes its own set of problems, but overcoming them is half the fun and the results can be stunning. I shoot at night using the very latest digital cameras, mounted on either one or two gyro stablazied mounts, depending on the format of the camera and length of lens I'm having to use.")