I’ve loved London ever since I visited it as a kid. Each summer I’d look forward to going with my mom, sitting on top of Primrose Hill, walking through Camden market and staring at the pretty lights in the sky. Naturally, I based my uni choices around London. It seemed obvious to me, I’d always loved it, why wouldn’t I want to live there?
Since being in London I’ve felt a spectrum of emotions. I’ve loved seeing the skyscrapers glowing in the night sky and the beautiful architecture and the vibrant food on brick lane. But after a while, it feels less exciting, to me anyway. Since being back this Christmas I’ve realised how much I’ve missed my home town. Dudley might be considered a shithole but parts of it are really beautiful.
I walked here last week with my boyfriend and basked in the tranquility. I admired the stillness and quiet, something missing from London. I felt overwhelmed by a lake that I’d seen many times before, but this time was different. I was comparing it to the concrete city, garish ‘Sainsburys Local’ and dirty backstreets. To me, this is beauty.
But so is this. A picture I took from the roof garden of my flat building in London. I found the view spellbinding, it seemed to call me and promise a world of opportunity, but this world I am still yet to see.
But really, this is what makes Dudley supreme. Give me all the skylines and sunsets over the gherkin in the world and it will never compare to a place with my family. To me, my home town will never be beaten and I never want to leave.