I went to school and worked at my internship, living a quiet existence. I was rather alone and part of me relished in that solitude. I read. I wrote. I soaked in the London mist. I felt it was a "writerly" place, all solemn and gray. I had days when I went out to explore. I had days when I stayed in to watch junk on the television and did some writing. It felt perfect, all of it.

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