Down the rabbit hole.

When the train stopped at Euston Station I felt relief. I had an amazing weekend away but feels great to be back home too. I love this crazy city.

I was getting off the train when I first noticed him. Tall, blonde and with a pair of Reebok hanging out of his bag. Darn british. That turned me on. I looked at his shoes and smiled.

I decide to overtake him. I am used to men noticing me, so I expect him to be looking at me with curiosity. I glance back. Indeed he is. I continue confident my way, I know where I am going because I live here, and I want him to know that. He also knows where he is going, and that’s sexy too – the fierce (London) dominated -.

I continue my way to the tube, looking sometimes back to check if he is still there, he is. At the mechanical stairs he overtakes me, and I hurry my steps to catch him back. I totally expect him to take Victoria Line and go Brixton, he’s got the vibe.

I follow him down the underground tunnels – like Alice in Wonderland follows her white rabbit into the unknown and the dream world – and I suddenly realise I am going the wrong way. He is apparently going somewhere north and this is not my route. The shock stops me and I can do nothing but stand there, paralised, watching him leave into Wonderland.