London - Part 1

Moving from a quiet village near Wales to London caused, not unexpectedly, some shock to my system. In St. Owens Cross, this little village in Herefordshire, the nearest bus stop was 30 minutes away if you decided to face the lonely countryside and walk to reach it. In London, the bus stop is 2 minutes from your doorstep. And before you get out of your house, the anticipation of the noise produced by drills and buses and horns from impatient drivers takes all your serenity away.

I only lived in London for a few months, I've had varied experiences there but I still have mixed feelings about it. The crowds, the multitude of faces and smells, all almost at the same time, I found them overwhelming. The constant racket seemed to seep deep into my brain and linger there long after I got inside and left it behind. With so much going on around, one would have the feeling of being in a place where things happen. And they do. But the gap between one's daily activity and one's inner life is getting wider.

There was a girl one day somewhere near Victoria Station. The reason why I remember her was because of the thought that I had as I was looking at her. Headphones in her ears, reading a book. All on her own, in a place where there was lots of traffic and therefore lots of noise. Now: I associate reading with finding a quiet place, where comforting takes place. This girl was looking for that in chaos. And that's what London does to you: it opens your eyes to the fact that life is more than rushing and doing, it's also about breathing and recovering, about taking time out to reconnect with yourself and with God. London can rob you of the meaning you knew you had in life.

The tube is a monotone worm creeping through the insides of the city, always with a purpose, gorging people and deepening the sense of solitude in the middle of masses of anonymous faces. We all have a story to tell. We all travel with our stories on our backs wherever the tube takes us. To a destination we've set out for ourselves before buying the ticket, to a place where our face is identifiable with that of someone that's loved and that has a name and a personality, and yearnings and regrets...