A few days ago I walked past a central London office building I used to work in. I indulged in that time-honored urban past-time: revisiting a life I used to live by re-enacting a daily routine that’s now long gone. With my muscle memory as my route map, I passed by the John Lewis window displays that once served as a reliable marker of the capitalist calendar on my walk to work — Halloween, Christmas, January sales, Valentine’s day, Easter, Mother’s day ad infinitum — and then those bizarre American candy stores that appear, improbably, to have survived lockdown.
Make room for it
Make room for it
Make room for it
A few days ago I walked past a central London office building I used to work in. I indulged in that time-honored urban past-time: revisiting a life I used to live by re-enacting a daily routine that’s now long gone. With my muscle memory as my route map, I passed by the John Lewis window displays that once served as a reliable marker of the capitalist calendar on my walk to work — Halloween, Christmas, January sales, Valentine’s day, Easter, Mother’s day ad infinitum — and then those bizarre American candy stores that appear, improbably, to have survived lockdown.