It's rushing for your dear life to a job you never saw yourself doing when you were younger... but somehow fell into and now can't get out of because you have a mortgage to pay.
It's yelling at someone to "move down inside the carriage" because you literally can't breathe in the armpit of some 6'4" stranger.
It's Tuesdays... when I know I can get the Stylist magazine 12 hours early, from the same man. We don't know each other names, but always smile and make eye contact as if we've known each other for years.
It's giving the biggest sigh as the doors close to a Victoria line tube, even though you know another one will be arriving in 60 seconds.
It's paying paying £6 for a pint and constantly complaining about it, but going back all the time to do it again.
It's a place that can be so overrun and crowded, yet you can feel so lonely.
It's London.
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