Back in Hoodoo City

After almost a month away, I am back in London. This is a grand and glorious thing.

London’s complexity, its tidal flux of people in constant motion, its density of both historical and constantly fresh information… Moorcock was right: ‘London is still the best and worst place for a poet or a novelist to live.’

One of the reasons for this is that there are two Londons. The one you see easy and the one beyond. This latter London lies under the skin of the other. It is hidden, secret and wrapped in shadow. The fire of mythological energy runs through its circuits. With every street, you get the chance to walk between worlds.

Being back in hoodoo city, I have the best of both those worlds. I can turn the key and snuggle in the comfort of my home or go outside and be part of the endless unrest. Stay in this room and create novel worlds with my words or walk the city, let it draw new maps in my imagination. London can burn my eyes with fresh information, make me see in a changed light or I can reach out and dislodge its ghosts from their brick and stone haunts.

Whatever else it may be, there is no denying London is a zone of increased potential and right now, right here is where I belong.