I first visited London in the summer of 1998 with my girlfriend (huh - we've been married over 10 years now!). We slept on a hardwood floor in our friend Andrea's dorm room. Some things about this magical city instantly transport me back to those days. The cornucopia of scents and odors that hang in the damp air - flowers, sulfur, curries, mildew, adventure, history - trigger memories through neurological pathways that circumvent logical analysis. Raw emotions.
Since then I've been here biennially, on average, for visits ranging from 3 days to 7 weeks. This arrival was very different, however. I recognized more places and for the first time after all these years felt like I knew where I was going and why. As the taxi approached my flat a wave of excitement and familiarity washed over me: I was coming home, or at least my home away from home. HOME has always been paramount to me, wherever it is and whether it's a 500sf flat or a 4500sf estate. The physical space is, on many levels, inconsequential. It's more of a state of mind. It's a place to work, sleep, eat, recharge, recover, and reflect. So here I sit at my laptop when I should be out in a park somewhere staring at a 1,000 year-old something-or-other.
