I used to go to London all the time. Now, I hadn’t been in 18 months. After I arrived, I kept looking around, almost gawking, just trying to take in the countless people, movements, and impressions. One moment felt especially surreal.
I got on one of the subway escalators to leave the station. It was extra long and extra steep. Looking upwards, I could see hundreds of people float by on the other side. Because of the angle, it felt as if I was laying flat, magically ascending upwards. Meanwhile, on my right, everyone seemed to look straight down—an assembly line transporting people into a mirage. It truly felt like a scene from a dream.
The more time I spend in smaller suburban areas and the countryside, the more I believe stuffing millions of people together, no matter how cool the environment, just isn’t forever. Space. Nature. Solitude. Few but meaningful connections. That feels more like reality than even the most impressive metropolis ever can.
If something feels like a scene from a dream, perhaps it’s meant to be just that. Don’t read too much into it. Listen to your heart—and in there, I’m sure you know you can wake up whenever you want.
