London.
It’s the city of Orwell’s Animal Farm. Marx’s grave. Dickensian. Shakespeare’s plays. Mary Shelly’s Frankenstein. Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes. Oscar Wilde’s Dorian Gray. Tolkien’s Hobbit.
It’s also the city of Churchill. Margaret Thatcher. Newton. Florence Nightingale. Alexander Fleming.
It’s also the city of Judi Dench. Daniel-Day Lewis. And some other spectacular people on screen.
It’s also the city of V for Vendetta. When V decided to bomb Westminster Abbey and the Londoners cherished.
It’s also the city that played an integral part in Crusades. World Wars. And everything around bombs and bullets anywhere around the world. Including lies to be bombed in Iraq.
London it is. Living its moment of Ertugrul. Of the past that’s long gone. And lost. Like the Ottomans.
But London kept its royal bloodline. For the sake of a show. This show. And some Netflix stuff. And some mixing of royal sperms in unroyal wombs. To keep themselves in the news. Like today. A mockery.
Thorn. Crown. Glorious. Past. Faith. Mary of Magdalene. Jesus Christ. Hallelujah!
