Do you ever wonder who you are? Sure, your name, your job, your family are labels but then what about outside in the world, on the streets, in the brightly lit streets. The deserted, rain-washed, alien city you've been living in but the city that doesn't seem lived in. How does one feel lost in such a brilliantly illuminated place? Why do the wall murals haunt, and contemptuously assail for being strange in this quirk-ridden place made of even stranger beings? I fight to make sense of my own existence among these startling sights and sounds, but I realize this very resistance to the onslaught that threatens to eclipse me is a reaction- a counterstrike, an answer to those unasked but deafening queries. A pushing back that is creating room for my own space in this dark and light world. My own shape, vibe, rhythm, or strain composing a me-ness that nothing outside can distort, that the inside can't eat away at. A permanent wisp of a dastardly dream that makes it's way down the streets of this Persepolis as determined to leave a dent in it's spirit as it has left in mine. An evening in February. #musings #instadaily #writersofinstagram #urbanphotography #thoughtstagram #photooftheday #london #poetsofinstagram #night #urbanjungle #raw #rain (at London, United Kingdom) https://www.instagram.com/p/CSuca-2N5J2/?utm_medium=tumblr