A gift to me, this city.
And here is where I will build my home,
down lanes I can’t quite see, in spaces where the sun is fleeting.
A tree, you see.
Near a smudge of blue,
warm bricks surrounding, inviting.
I run my hands everywhere.
Dust on my hands, my worn out hands,
from touching this place.
So I rest, remembering,
hotel carpets and clean sheets,
saloon bars and lost letters.
Visit me, if you can.
You’ll find me if you look for the signs,
of picture framers (not actual size).
In a half moon court,
past the liquorice church,
let the quiet draw you nearer.
This poem was written as part of Sense of the City: London – a collaboration with Contemporary Design curator Sobin Lim, investigating the Smithfield area of London. The project aimed to open up a discourse about the urban landscape using multi-sensory experiences. The experiences of the public provided the starting point for writers to re-interpret the urban environment and offer a new narrative for people to use when exploring the location.
Visit the project’s website here: http://cargocollective.com/senseofthecitylondon