London
You can hear Blake singing in the alley around here.
The space are tightly packed and even twitching with judgement.
London is too expensive for too many creatives to be clustered where the living is good. so who is the writer tapping away on that typewriter all day and all night driving the neighbourhood insane with wonderment as to precisely what it is that is so fucking interesting to be found within this space that makes most of the others cringe?
There is no turning back when you keep walking against the cries of a baby that has just fallen down a flight of front steps.