London
Bombs exploded in London the day I was due to arrive. A dreary Thursday saw four suicide bombers board three tube trains and one bus, each heading in the direction of a compass orientation. I hardly need tell you what followed - a symbolic dissection and literal crucifixion that left 52 dead, many more wounded and a hitherto seemingly indestructible city, reeling. For the first time in known history, London was closed. The following day I moved to a new city with a boy that I loved, fresh from our adventures in Sydney. But here, we were surrounded by chaos and noise, barely protected by the skinny walls of our “young professionals” apartment that resembled all the other characterless blocks around it. The pressures of living in a part of the city that was still rife with racial tension, trapped in a shoe box and without the beautiful backdrop of the Antiopodes soon started to take their toll. Alongside this, our desires were rapidly diverging. Unsurprisingly, we pa...