A Love Letter

Sweet Sweet South Ken

Home is a fickle little anomaly of sorts -- something of a mashing between familiar and comfortable and predictable. Little by little my London life is beginning to feel a bit more like home. I find myself missing Boston more than I expected, but I think it's just the confusion of existing in the space between two places that I've fallen in love with. I feel like I'm cheating on Boston with London and London with Boston. It's a shame I can't strap time into my sidecar and take it with me, only unbuckling it when I feel city satiated.

But, for now, this is home or something like it:

Fish and Hot Chip(s)

Hot Chip "Over and Over": my life in short.

(read: unbelievably surreal in the most amazing of ways)

Palace Scholastica

{I spent the day at Hampton Court Palace, and while it seemed a bit like a fairy tale, it was actually for my art history class.}

The changing skies spun me into something of restlessness. A mess of dramatic clouds and blinding blue fought above walls of old and stories of forever. Stone and shadow build the history of a nation. It's easy to forget that the people who lived here had beating hearts, tangled hair, and lively steps like ours.

History sits heavy in framed faces. We must learn to bear the weight for a while.

I'm so very lucky and endlessly grateful.

Mr. Woodnote in Brighton

Wandering a messy handful of streets by the sea, my friends and I found something wonderful today in Brighton. As we crossed the road - hearts hoping for a peak of the water - our ears were stretched from our heads and strung among lines of music dangling from the lamp posts. Buzzing and lively and breaking into our chests, Mr. Woodnote - armed a with a sax, a tasty set of pedals and an unbelievable talent - and an MC whose name I cannot unfortunately remember rallied an audience of intrigue. My brain melted and my heart was quick to follow.

Here's a video from earlier this year of Woodnote solo:

And another of Dub FX featuring Woodnote:

Camden Town

Yesterday some friends had an adventure to the northern part of the city. In Camden, the markets purr all day, and the punks rally when the sun goes down. We had that wonderful rush of emerging from the Underground station without even a sliver of learned anticipation. Camden was a mystery. (And with second thought, I think it might still be so) 

This is what we found:

The Queen's Arms and a Three Legged Dog

On the first official night in our new city, we took a round about adventure looking for something we never found, but ending somewhere even better. Nestled behind the bright white stoops of South Kensington, there's a little place where quiet conversations over amber drinks nestle comfortably into themselves. The Queen's Arms is humble, dark and deep. Behind me a three legged dog lazed on the floor, content like we were to merely exist in our very own cozy city solacement. Browns bled into grey into shadow and when we'd had enough to drink we kissed cheeks with the locals and released our calm into the cobbled street.

With Love, South Kensington

I can hardly believe it's true, but my home-'til-December looks something like this. 

Many more photos and tales and delights to come. xo.