what’s yours is mine

Broadway calls, it always does on a day where the sun finds its warmth once more. To market, to market, I’m a-tapping my feet. I’ve never been to the real broadway, but I imagine it’s nothing like this one tucked beside London Fields.

(photo courtesy of Rel)

It’s here I’ve come to meet a friend who waits inside ‘La Bouche’ a place filled with the smells of cheese and coffee. I take my seat across from her. Up close on my left side is a girl drinking a hot chocolate opposite her friend and up close on my right side is a man who is struggling to get his legs under the table. Welcome to London’s communal seating arrangements. In a city where people burst from the seams, and yet lead some of the loneliest lives, cafes are trying to make everyone a little closer in vicinity if not relationship. Conversations overlap other conversations, layering each other with something much like ‘comfort’. Some are serious, some not so, but you sort of feel a part of the tale being told down the table-line of some bike mishap. I could almost reach out and take a bite of the cheesy panini just served up on a plate to the girl beside me. However I don’t think that would go down so well. There has been a removal of spacial borders, but not etiquette ones. 

You may also like