In London no one can hear you scream.
You can scream all you like, princess.
Scream up Fleet Street, scream down Holloway Road, scream all over Clapham Common, scream up at Nelson’s face, scream along Blackfriars Bridge, scream out from the top of Primrose Hill until your throat bleeds.
By the time you’ve found somebody who’s ready to listen, you’ll have run out of scream.
I always thought that my screams were being ignored.
Now I know that, really, everyone in this city is so deafened by their own screams that they can’t possibly hear mine. Just like I didn’t hear yours.