(Kind of) I live here

Yesterday was six months since I moved to London. I apparently live here, but it feels far from home. I'm going to Dublin for a holiday soon, and that makes Dublin not quite feel like home either. I feel as if I'm becoming less sure what home is. But being here at least has taken on a different feeling of familiarity. I realised this as I crossed Waterloo Bridge on Saturday night, which I've done many times and which is one of my favourite places to go here, to the Thames, and specifically that spot on the river. It is a spectacular view, and on Saturday what was nice was to feel it as familiar. Rather than the frisson of 'ooh, look at that' there was the ease of 'ah, there it is'. And that was when I realised that I feel, not at home, but less like I'm inconsequentially arrested here, which I had felt a great deal in the first three months or so. And that's an improvement I think. I've also been deepening my appreciation of little things around my neighbourhood. Like how cool and Gothic the old buildings look at night:

The street art on numerous street signs nearby, by Clet Abraham (more on this later hopefully):

And that I just this evening ate a chive planted here, on the hoarding around a building site:

And I've been stopping to smell the flowers, literally, and enjoy many other daily sights, which I realise I don't have any photos of, because usually you don't take photos of things at home. And that is perhaps the best sign of all.