We are London

A city famed for its landmarks, its heritage and its rain.

A city of scale, of skyscraping towers, money and fame.

A city known for its banks, its theatres but never really its pain.

We are London.


A city of greatness but one that’s expected to take the hit.

After all, we’re the capital.

And atrocities like Saturday are expected. Because, after all.

We are London.

The ‘how could it happen here’ isn’t something that is uttered.

The ‘things like this don’t happen to people like us’ is not something splashed across the news. Because.

We are London.

Our sense of community is often questioned, because our faces are frowned.

Our being affected by something so awful isn’t considered, because we’re so vast and spread apart.


We are London.

And these things do happen to people like us.

Our bars. Our pubs. Our people.


And as we do what we do best, and come to work this morning as normal, I’m hurt.

Nobody talks about Saturday. It’s not mentioned in the office, it’s not spoken about on the train.

Because, well.

We are London.

And this is our norm.

But on Saturday, do know.

That the stiff upper lip and ‘they never talk to anyone’ wasn’t seen.

We cried.

Just as Manchester, Nice and Brussels before us.

We watched and saw our London stand up and be heroes.

Our London, stand up and save lives.

Our London come under attack, once more.

But we are big and we are strong and this is expected.

So, we must carry on. Because.

We are London.

But we must not forget.

On Saturday, we lost our own.

Today we walk on scared.

And carry pride for how our city responded.


We aren’t always big. We aren’t always strong.

We are London.

And our hearts break too.




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