and the year rolled out

There were snow showers on lexington street this past week. i spent it in a messy little room in an ancient building in soho. the streets were deserted, as london had left town for the holidays. the heavy front door had to be thrice locked (one modern buzz lock, 2 old jammed keyholes above and below, just out of reach) everytime anyone came in or out or when the mail had to be picked up by freezing fingers. the stairs were wooden and very smelly. the ground floor had a obscure old print store and a writer's clubhouse, dimly seen through the exterior windows sometimes. first floor was an actual editorial office from the 20s, with a fading sign saying 'no whining' outside the door. my hole-up was on the third floor, un-findable unless you went through a door saying 'access to roof' and squeezed past a pista green ladies room door. the office itself was full of i-macs and ornate mirrors, and oh so many books. in piles on the floor and crammed into bookshelves.

here i learned to use apple computers and vectorworks (i still maintain that cuteness value does not make up for certain innate irritatingnesses of i-macs - and autoCAD simply rules!) and to be patient with a crazy co-worker who decided at 3 am that the building was haunted and being robbed at the same time and that we must. leave. at. once.

i guess it was worth working on a marginally interesting project, albeit as a drone, for not much pay, just to realise that as long as imagination survives, london cannot fail to enchant me.

and the walk home on that haunted-office day was the best one i've had in a long time. i observed how my favourite parts of town behave at 4 in the morning. reacquainted myself with the river and the mucky backflow when the thames gateway's closed. i was completely alone, freezing and very happy.