London is sterile compared to Hong Kong, Los Angeles, like an operating theatre.
The senses are driven wherever you are especially smell the intensity of which increases as evening draws on.
Its like filling Glade plug-ins with clove, cinnamon, fennel seed, star anise and sezchuan pepper and planting them in every socket in your home, shutting all the windows and breathing.
Bicycle bells, wafts of yeast, crab, noole, duck, spices, sewage (and even that has a hint of saffron) cries from stall holders, neon lights everywhere, pedestrian crossings that ring like a muffled alarm clock eternally sound - dinga, dinga, dinga, dinga, dinga, dinga
Huge fish eagles soar above the vertigo-enhancing sky rise buildings as even larger birds fly in through the misty clouds carrying tourists and men in suits.
Hectic everywhere like bees in a hive, its impossible to stay focussed, there's just too many messages. Thrilling but tiring. I'm glad I cannot read Chinese.
People so curteous that even when the road is clear and crowds seething, they will wait patiently for the green man.
I like this city.
My senses are alive.
