I see London, I see France, please put on some underpants!
So Olivia…
Yay! London. The first time I ever heard of London was when I was a toddler. My mom would hold both of my tiny child hands, then we would spin around. “London bridge is falling down, falling down, falling down.” We’d skip counter clockwise. I tried my best to go as fast as I can, chasing the high of my brain swirling around, buoyant on smart fluid. My mom would be the center of our disproportionate radius, pacing herself, knowing her steps were much larger, and more adult than mine. “London bridge is falling down. My fair….” Right here I knew the payoff beckoned. All the cranial spinning made me queazy, dizzy, a toddler high. I jumped up into the air as high as I could. I could feel the tug from my mothers arms as she combatted her centripetal child satellite. “Lady!” I fell dead with my legs, in fetal, trapped and encased inside the stoned ashes of Pompeii.
However, what about my current use of London? It goes like this: “I see London, I see France, please put on some underpants!” That’s for you Britney Spears. Your chacha has seen more sunlight than a solar plant.
-Not Olivia
