Since forever or, at least, since I can remember, the words “England” and “London” trigger a flood of remembrance in my head. Personal memories upon collective memories, overlapping and fighting each other. Carnaby street in the Nineties. Lots of souvernirs, a bunch of punks and a pile of silly t-shirts in my purse. Brit pop in the background.
Camden town in the early 2000s. Tons of pounds in exchange for peculiar clothes and Placebo’s or, alternatively, David Bowie’s vinyls and cds. Music and gigs all over the town. Britxon, two years ago. A silent visit to David Bowie’s mural, a flower. “Flowers and silence”, as Sneaker Pimps would have said.