round up the usual suspects

Momo; 25 Heddon St, London 

What do you get when you Arabic Den meets Paris? You get Momo's. My sister and I, every time we take a stroll through Regent St., we never seem to fail to end up dropping by here. The terrace is like a secret garden that feels like you're a thousand miles away from the busy streets of London. Everyone in the place always has a warm welcoming face that makes you feel like you can really unwind after a long day (..of shopping, in our case).

“I heard a story once — as a matter of fact, I've heard a lot of stories in my time. They began with the sound of a tinny piano playing in a parlor downstairs…” 

- Casablanca 

breezeblocks

11/24

distinctive dublin

To make things better about being homesick, I came across this video about Dublin and their sense of style. I think every word said in this video captures the city's people. They let you have room to express your style and creativity through more ways than one, and people enjoy it.

The city I've moved to is also the same and I love everything about it, but I guess it takes time to get used to things when you've adapted to certain ways. New friends and environment is always a good thing, but I miss miss miss Dublin so much. I can't wait to visit my friends and family in Dublin next month, and also my sister in London. Do you ever go to a place where you can say, "this is my city", well I'm certain my city is Dublin and London.

gold days

after midnight.

up all night to get lucky

In South Kensington for the weekend! Sun shining, and with the perfect people! Couldn't ask for anything else. Being a make-up artist is hard work. I'm amazed at what they can do! ahem ahem make me look normal, haha.

early birds

oh, how I love the never ending bustling and hustling of London!

the world is your oyster card

Westminster; London

You can tell him. You can list the reasons why. You’re pretty good at lists. You can list them over and over. You can count them out like sheep in your head until you forget what the outcome you want from the lists are. Replace the confusion with items from the list and try to lean on to one side of an outcome, only so that you can sleep. You still don’t know.

You can kiss him. Kiss the words into his lips in the hopes that he understands that this minute, second, is perfect. Press your head hard onto his chest in the hopes that he knows that this minute, second, is perfect. But deep inside, you press your head hard onto his chest because you are uncertain if this is the last time you want to have him close to you.

You sit at a coffee at a coffee shop. You can sit in a coffee shop for an hour. An hour more of each other’s company but also an hour less you have for another while. You sit there holding on to his arm but not one word spoken. Looking around, analyzing every inch of the place - except the suitcase in front of you. Observe people working, college students studying, chuckle at the child who spilled their drink two tables down. And there you two are, muttering: “we’ll work something out,” to fill the silence.

You can stand at a train station. You can stand at a train station for an hour. You keep standing there - hands holding tighter. You stand there in front of him, both glancing at other people until the last possible minute until you really have to stop avoiding one another. You say goodbye – make an attempt to say goodbye, at least.

You both stand there. You both stand in the middle of a train station in the hopes that this will be the last goodbye, though at the same, in the hopes that it won't be. It’s tiring. Not the air miles, not the train tracks. The constant reminder of: it is what it is.

There will be days when all you want to do is spend it with that person, and days where you wish things could have been done differently. But it is necessary to never question something that once made/still makes you happy. I guess that’s what makes it exciting: the uncertainty of not knowing when it is possible to act this way with that person again.

strawberry heaven

Summer's dinner; Oxford Street

Liege waffle with freshly whipped cream, drizzle of Belgian chocolate fudge and fresh strawberries.

after hours

The Light Bar

1. Running errands in heels, trying to check off each to-do faster than the previous task. 
2. Drinks at a former electric light station.
3. After work chats with old friends and new faces.

black and white

if you're going abroad, i can't help you

Pursue the crowds at an airport. Be it international or domestic, you are certain/guaranteed to see a zoo of people. It’s quite an honest place to get a sense of a person’s character; what they’re like, at an airport. This all depends on different things. Are they the passengers who travel for leisure in jeans and a t-shirt  or are they the business type – in a suit, working away on their laptop sending away the last piece of email before they get on the plane? Are they the coffee drinkers? Or the homemade sandwich eaters? 

I like the sound of the operator reminding a Mr. Peter Knapp that his plane is about to board. The the sounds of baggage wheels sliding off an escalator. The sounds of people briskly walking to reach their gate. These sounds are reminders, pleasant reminders, that everyone is getting from A to B. Either they are almost home, or soon to be somewhere new and exciting. 

But the best part lies in what an airport symbolizes.  Airports are more than just a place for arrivals and departures. They are bookends. Places of new beginnings, long-awaited endings. Hellos and goodbyes. Starting in one city and only to end in another place thousands of kilometers away. Ah, but my favorite is when you close the airplane door on winter, and open it on summer - only seven hours later. 

I don't think you are the same person as when you leave somewhere. I'm not entirely certain if it is good or bad, but there is a certainty that you change with each departure/arrival. Once you start, you can never truly finish. It's the way it works and I'm not complaining.

tell me what the matter is, little man I've got a pretty face and I wear a nice dress

Dress; Zara

View from the balcony

Mind the gap

Waterloo, London

They spend time in the morning to style their hair and dress sharply. By force of habit, people will run to where they need to be even if they are on time. I guess London gives that feeling where you’re constantly needed at any given time. It’s a place you love and hate. You love it because of the adrenaline it gives you, but you hate it because you never sleep, well rather - the city never sleeps.

You’ll walk around Borough market in the mornings smelling the freshly baked pastries and fresh flowers as you pass by an old book shop - you know what I’m talking about – the one with books piled up outside - the unwanted ones, and every time you pass by it, you wonder “what happens to these books when it rains,” – It’s been open every single time you visit London, so it must be doing well, yet you never see anyone from outside the window. You walk inside hoping to find a novel to read on the train home but you never actually buy anything.

You’ll meet people who adore you because you’re different. They'll ask you to talk about everything you've done but you never know where to start. So you pick one or two stories they might like, but not the same ones the stranger asked you yesterday. You don't really like the idea of them asking you, but the idea they interested in what you have to say in that given moment is enough for you to share them. They'll nod and smile and ask more questions as you take a pause to sip your coffee in the morning, or cocktail at night. You’ll enjoy meeting old and new faces and walk home with the cold wind fighting against your coat. 

When you leave this place, you’ll want to return. It has this efficiency that not many cities have, not that I've been to all the cities (yet), but it is incomparable. The history, the streets, cultures. It is a melting pot for anything and everything. When you’re in London, you feel like you are truly a part of the city.