The city thrums loudly; a heartbeat of footsteps, calls and closing doors. The paths we tread are simultaneously familiar and alien as the landscape morphs further with each visit. A myriad designs pressed together to line cobbled roads. Wide tavern windows to welcome travellers into the warmth. Bursts of colour to draw the eye against the chaos.
We stumble through, down the Seven Dials and on through the tourist heart, through the city that never gets old. Miles walked already, eyes tired and legs undefeated. We slip into a bar that has fond memories for me, press the chill of the wine against lips, talk intently with eyes absently on passers by at the window. The unfamiliarity draws us to the window, to feel connected still to the continuum of the outside world. Diners leave unfinished plates and pass through the door, breathing a chill inside.