the city is creative       the city says human creativity is the ultimate economic resource the city turns human creativity into dreams and dreams into reality and reality into money reality is money       the city says so       the city wakes early and takes a run in hyde park before catching a circle line train to embankment       the city takes prozac and watches daytime tv       the city is permanently at war       do not leave your baggage unattended the city ate the past       it chewed it up and spat it out in sound bites and tourist trails and marble museums       the city reinvented history and called it a show       the city ate the future too       and spat out nothing       the city says be present in the present       set your alarm clock and check your apps and iron your shirts for the week ahead       the city speaks of revanchism in its architecture and multiculturalism in its billboards       the city offers choice       and temporal euphoria       the city is deeply erotic       you love its black tunnels and tall silver towers       you only pretend to dislike the smell of its bowels the city expresses itself in a language that is sexual       mind the gap       the city offers satiation before you experience desire       the city orders prawn tempura sitting in a cafe on the bank of the river       staring at the river releases endorphins       the city drinks a glass of chilled chardonnay       the city has a death-wish and an appetency for life style the city is open for business       the city favours a late capitalist neo-liberal market the city is not for sale       the city says everything is for sale       the city has already been sold       the city thrives on tension       east and west       rich and poor       the city dislikes mediocrity       mediocrity is death       the city sleeps at its desk after lunch but perks up for a sales meeting in the late afternoon       the city believes in religion but not in an afterlife       the city is tolerant       when it is hot the city riots and occasionally beats people to death       the city loves peace       the city holds huge rallies where everyone chants peace in technicolour newsreel       the city is a film shot in black-and-white       on sunday mornings in kensington park trees drape their shadows over grass while squirrels dash back and forth like commuters       at times like this the city loves you back       the park is full of grey squirrels       all the red squirrels are dead       the city smells of piss and broken promises       the city says sorry for your inconvenience when people commit suicide       the city exists in one corner shop       on summer mornings the city is covered in golden footprints that can only be seen from cranes       in winter the city floats along milky white not caring where it is going       sometimes the city dies of boredom       other times it paints itself red       after work the city drinks a pint of bitter in a pub owned by a conglomerate       the city has colleagues not friends       the city takes the bus home to ealing and eats fish ‘n’ chips from a bag       at night the city sheds dust and colour       and swells       a collective unconscious where millions of dreams swim through the darkness