It was my last visit to London. I remember taking the Underground to St. John’s Wood, then talking to a handsome fellow working at the station. He gave me a map to Abbey Road and I walked the several blocks through a quiet neighborhood, absorbing the tranquil houses and beautiful gray skies. I remember making the cross, in the same footsteps as John, Paul, Ringo, George and tourists. I remember that afternoon, walking Abbey Road by myself on a rainy Sunday. I had strangers take my photograph. I ran my hands across the worn graffiti on the walls of Abbey Road Studios, thinking of the Beatles, and the 60’s, fortune and luck. How lucky I was to be in London…

It aches. I miss every step of the journey, every day, every single day, all the time.

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