After six years away from London, I found it uncanny how easily I was able to navigate the tube and streets. It felt as though time had not past and that I was twenty again. I wandered aimlessly, or so I thought, but somehow I would end up at the same locations I was drawn to before. I did not know if this was because they were tucked away in my subconscious, wanting to be revisited, or because I am still very much the same person I was then in my basic nature and enjoy similar experiences. Either way, I found myself at the Tate Modern craving Francis Bacon and in the Borough Market talking about big apple dreams while feeling inspired by church bells ringing in the foggy London sunset. The Borough Market was classier than what I remembered, but perhaps, it is just that now I can appreciate the foodie atmosphere that comes to life in the evening. The violet sky’s mist wrapped me in its arms as I drank red wine while overlooking the Thames. I raised my glass in cheers to this foggy city out of a Monet painting. I felt euphorically satisfied and at the same time sad as I reminisced. Six years ago I came to this city, died, and was reborn out of ashes. How apt to come back as a dying phoenix preparing for its second life.