the arrival

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London is my muse. I can exit an aircraft at 6am in the morning, after a 13 hour flight, a three hour layover and a vicious line of questioning from immigration and still jump in the shower and hit the streets from dusk til dawn every single day until my flight ticket says my number is up. And so I pad the streets with the deranged air of someone who’s only just fallen in love. I can never tell if it’s the crisp weather, the blue skies, the accent, the live-it-large attitude of its inhabitants or the potential to do nearly anything and almost get away with it. Jettisoned there by Zouk, along with its Global Friday winner, to document a night’s worth of excess at Fabric, I lingered longer. London and me don’t see each other too often but when we do, we want to spend every waking moment with each other. So 2 big breakfasts, 3 clubs, 3 bands, several shopping sprees, one condemnded building, four record stores and three Banksys later, here I am, ready to tell you the story….