St. Pauls was and is my favourite building in London. I would walk past it, and it’s sheer size and beauty, would force an inhale of air to my lungs; a reminder that where I was, was spectacular.
st. pauls - a poem i sit on the steps at st. pauls and i think, of how many people have stood where i am sat. the years of history trampled under foot, under breath. i sit on the steps at st. pauls and i think, of how many people have walked past here crying, where they came from, what they left behind that broke their hearts. i ponder what year they lived. i sit on the steps at st. pauls and i think, of how many people have walked past here holding hands, laughing, talking to somebody, thinking of someone. at the steps at st. pauls i beg you to smile, at the thought of where you're sat right now. where you are now has been there before you, will be there after you, it hosts thousands of stories. feel the stories, hear the stories, be a story of your own. by paige bolland
Yes, I used to live in London and contemplate life, and mind, under beautiful historic buildings, writing out my feelings as I went. But I don’t anymore. I guess I still struggle with not being that poetic with my feelings anymore, and I suppose this blog is an attempt at trying to understand and accept this.
Yes, I used to turn life into poetry, but now I’m too busy trying to live life to romanticise it –
– and that’s okay.