the day when i wasn't jewish enough

the streets of camden are covered in a skin of dirt and the occasional shower. millions of feet weigh them down with their heavy thoughts, their misery and their forbidden desires. the pace is quick, slow is fast and fast is faster. i love it. no more muttering under my breath when a group of people decide to take their unoriginal discussion to the middle of the street, no more getting an angry glance when trying to push your way up an escalator, no more everyone knows everyone.

the streets of barnet are not a completely different story. the same rain falls there, the aame buses leave the same pollution, but other people walk the streets with other thoughts and other problems. and the area around golder's green is a funny one, you can run into what by all means look like the mob, and you can be turned down for a job simply because you aren't jewish. the discouraged girls walk with hanging heads and the swedish ones are the ones who doesn't think it's necessary to small talk with strangers.

will try to recover and keep what little pride i've got left by going down to fleet street and then cross the river thames. the skies are gray but no sight of rain yet.