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I arrive back to grey
I exchange my sunnies and tan line for rain
And long coats
And the hustle and bustle
All multicultural, mulicolours, bilingual city
I arrive from the heat and the brown skinned streets, old Swahili speak
From fort Jesus, it’s white sandy beaches
I come back with one word in a language
I have missed grey
The subtle says, all polite and less direct form of shade
I fly back from bluntness that the Britishness never knew, I missed the doubled tongues in you
In you, all of you Londoners

I have missed this city
I have missed the groans
And moans of cars
Long-ass traffic lines
I have missed the red buses
The easy streets
And road signs
I know how this heavy engine works
I have loved and lived in the hem of her skirts
I have walked on her stitches
For years and years
I am aware here
I am a piece of this
Or maybe this is a piece of me
I dwell in her richness
This grey city is mine
It is mighty fine
Full and thick
Of memories
Ever Brick
Has a name
And story
I am learning some
Judging by my tan line, you come to find I don’t miss the sun

-Written by Aisha Mohammed   *AISHA MD*

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