Same Same

At the top of Primrose Hill, I'm startled to see the London Eye on the horizon. I'd forgotten that I was here.

I still get up early, hunched over the laptop answering emails from the same people. I'm still scared of some of them.

The small supermarket on the corner still provides lunch. The cafe opposite it, my bolt-hole, still has flaky wireless access and strong, overpriced black coffee. The pub on the corner's still the first choice when we can't be bothered cooking.

The working week still takes place inside a two-hundred-metre circle.

I still go for a run at lunch time, drowning out my fatigue with the same Australian beats.

Only the scenery has changed.

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