M Y T A K E O N F I N D I N G Y O U R S E L F I N L O N D O N
I heave a sigh of triumph as I step onto the firm platform, my body still caught up in swaying from the movement of the tube. My shoulders rise and fall steadily giving my heart time to pace itself before I once again embark into the crowd of bobbing heads filing up the escalator. Just a few moments later my nose manages to free itself of the heavy dust coating the station, a thick fog that settles over the scampering underground civilization. Voices cloud my thoughts creating a cacophony of pre-work calls, anxious parents, and takeaway coffee orders. A wisp of the morning air grazes my nostrils, a new dose of motivation combined with aching feet anticipating who will reach the exit first.
I slap my plastic card against the bright yellow receiver, watching the small lightbulb glow green with a sense of approval. Pummelling through the minuscule gates my cheeks glow a bright red suddenly bloated with a sense of embarrassment. Don’t rush! Now you look like an overly excited tourist, what's next? Are you going to start taking selfies with Big Ben?
Indeed, that’s exactly what I did, or rather a ‘memorable photo’. My legs stand firm with admiration holding my eyes up to encompass the palette of people with distinct shades and strokes venturing through Westminster. Some, with firm gazes, follow a glowing line of destination, charting a map of instinct and familiarity onto the pavement ahead. Others fluttering from one foot to another, contorting hands to find the best angle for a photo. Meanwhile some are still caught in the morning trace of drowsiness, deep grooves of purple under their eyes they look like they have unconsciously switched on a programme reversing the control between mind and body, fuelled only by a cup of coffee in hand that seems to have failed miserably at bringing them back to life.
This is the city, my mind echoes. The real city. And as I made my way to the all too familiar sixth form building an unsettling sense of ambiguity drenched my lively spirit. Despite the decade I've spent living in London, I still can't find my way to St. Margaret's church without the handy gleam of my modernised companion, I can't recall the names of even five streets in central London, and I refer to Parliament square garden as ‘that patch of green in front of the government’. It dawned upon me that I really didn’t know ‘my’ city all that well, the one-hour commute from home proved to be a drastic change of scenery skewing my sense of both direction and familiarity. Nevertheless, I sought change more than anything. My secondary school had seemed to become a second home for me, yet in all the wrong ways. Knowing every corner, streetlight and bench meant that boredom began to seep into my morning routine which was becoming monotonous and repetitive; I had to break this cycle before it was too late.
And so here I am, Harris Westminster Sixth Form, I would be prouder to say it if I didn’t have to google my way back after every time I go out for lunch, commuting every day to the heart of London to immerse myself in the epitome of professional learning. Yet there's also something unsettling about all this, somehow travelling to the same place every day without much guidance in finding your footing. Having just started year 12, it's been difficult to become comfortable in London's bustling atmosphere and a part of me feels like I'm not the only one who could use some advice. With the current state of the world, it feels as though young people are expected to find their own way around, fight for their own causes and solve their own problems. However, will this extent of individuality ease your transition into a new environment? From personal experience I've been afraid to ask others, find new friends or venture anywhere outside of a 50-metre radius of Steel House; I thought I was done for.
That was until I was met with the hurdle of a photography assignment with the thematic brief ‘street’. Now I had to purposefully go and get lost in the streets of London. With my shaking hands, a mind full of doubt I made the commute to school the next day, the same routine of packaged humans on a carriage shipped off to work, yet this time as my feet clambered up the steps out of Westminster, I felt my vision had been tainted with a growing sense of creativity. I began to see a blueprint for different shots to take. A ruffled bird perched on a bench, the suns reflection in Big Bens glass face, the flickering of bus headlights.
London had come to life in a way I had never seen before, and that made me want to tell my story even more. To capture sparks of moments that I had taken for granted, and somehow the beady eyed stares of the public washed away, leaving just me, my camera, and a stunning city: my city. Good or bad the photos I snapped that day were the start of a new journey, an innovative perspective on the hurried world constantly revolving around me, making me run faster and faster as to not trip over my own sense of doubt. Taking those photos was the gateway to individuality that I needed, and it may or may not be just the thing you need to. So, I urge you, capture those moments, conversations, thoughts, ideas, and momentary sparkles of creativity, because they are the key to grasping London by the hand and truly making it yours.
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