cue sweet caroline

(snippet from a journal entry)

I miss it being just me and my own world walking through the streets of London, passing by strangers I'll never see again, while the echoey melody of a song I once heard finds it's way to my ears all the way from a busker's guitar strings, all while I savour the mouth-watering pieces of art I have just seen, saving it for conversations with friends that I long for. I walk and walk, walk a bit more until there's no more walking to do. I long for the days where we can talk instead.

good times, in fact, never had seemed so good