I didn’t know until I went to London that besides artists like painters, cartoonists, and singers, you can also hire poets and writers on the streets. I have some fond memories of using my father’s typewriter as a child, I recently invested in an antique myself, and on the second last day of my trip to London, the “Poet For Hire” sign, and the sounds of the typewriter keys striking the paper fascinated me. To be honest, I stood there for no more than thirty seconds and left the scene in search of a famous food market.

That night, I reflected back on my day and realised that I missed an important aspect of travelling. You see, tourists are in search of the next tourist spot, what’s in between is completely ignored by most. 

“Instead of brisk walking, I should have taken it slowly”, I told myself that night before going to bed.

The next day, instead of going to a new tourist destination within London City, I decided to walk the route again and not rush. This entire blog has been written based on my experience on my last day in London. If I hadn’t walked the walk again, you wouldn’t be reading this blog right now.

Well, what did I observe? “Many things” would be my answer, and most importantly, I enjoyed it. It’s actually quite therapeutic to watch people, buildings, and street artists in between. It’s calming to just stop and sit on a bench or the footpath and listen to the sounds.

Coming from St. Paul’s Cathedral, if you cross Millennium Bridge and walk towards London Bridge, you will come across a Poet For Hire. I observed him from a distance on day two and noticed quite a few people asked him to type. I also decided to stop and ask Luke about him and his work. I then explained to him how it was my last day in London and that I came back to see him. Based on our discussions, Luke wrote me a poem. I didn’t understand it much when he handed it over to me, but I read it again at night and found it to be a beautiful piece that expressed how I felt and how he, as an artist, sees the people walking past him. I could hear the keys striking while I read it. I share with you what Luke Davis wrote for me. 

We see them march quite briskly from photo opportunity to photo opportunity,

another monument crossed off the list, posing before the cathedral,

another x on the map

and the space between is what disappears

not expecting to find anything there,

the connective tissue disappears

and the city becomes just a set of quotations we hardly hear,

already so over-familiar, the very photograph is made superfluous,

but it is the in-between where everything happens

that is where the fox pounces on its prey,

that’s where the parakeet burst from cover,

that’s where you find your poem, in the in-between,

that is where surprises happen

that’s why every miracle is almost completely unobserved

the impossible happens and goes unremarked

regards

Muji