The Inner City

(Pictures are borrowed from the excellent website, 'The London Column')

The oldest of stories; how did it begin? Which movement of the heart, concentrated in a single gesture of my hand, got me here? The oldest of human stories; how did it begin, again? The hidden streets of our lives; now a name, now a cellar. There is a single medieval street that survives amidst all that is strange and new and it is something like an obsolete word in a dictionary, like the oldest human feeling in a stranger's heart, like nothing else...