sunday

Found my London equivalent of Barnes & Noble.  Foyle's.  A  minute's walk from Tottenham Court Road station, lovely cafe crowded with clunky wooden chairs and tables and people and white cups of peppermint tea, hot chocolate topped with melting whipped cream, macchiatos and americanos.  Shared a table with a boy wearing a red sweater and a scarf; an economics student judging from the stack of books beside his laptop.  Read Mrs. Dalloway and became lost in all those streams of consciousness.