If you see you got there down that mean you've gone too far- London you may know.

Sometimes I do like taking a journey. Not in that literal meaning you usually associate with the word 'journey', but the mental ones, the ones happening at night when you leave home taking only a camera and a pack of cigarettes. Then, in the dark, you don't really get to know the place. You get to know yourself, what to you notice when no one else can see, and what do you expect to see. 

 On Wednesday night I was heading down to Shoreditch to listen to a (free) concert of a band formed by staff of Financial Times. I made a plan to reach the place when I was supposed to meet my friends by nine. Plan was an important part of this process as I usually get lost even in my own pocket. I spoke to Google maps regarding that issue and it helped me draw a small sketch of the simpliest way I had found. At the end of its' advice Google said: 'If you reach down the Curtain Road, that means you've gone too far'. That means you've gone too far.

 I reached Curtain Road (as I expected) after surprisingly short walk and I had no idea where could I turn back to find my destination. There was a point of the walk somewhere in the middle which caused a split between me and reality- a small piece of a road surrounded by container-kind of large boxes, with sleepy eyes of exactly the same windows.This miserable piece of landscape was a rupture in the way, like a wound which makes you tired and walking around, without an end. It reminded me of Panama City.

Curtain Road was a perfect name for this kind of place. In the dark, it was performing a theatre of thousands of lights, inviting you to keep going farther. It was one of the best types of theatre: a performance of windows. I love to look in through the window. Especially when the places inside are closed and deserted. Then all of a sudden they get their own souls, the soul which only places can have. The sould of a perfection untoched.