A Walking Ethno-poem of Soho's Streets

A poem by Finola Stowe

Forgot my headphones so street music is more appealing

The unrecognisable instrument

that somehow gets you from A to B

I walk with aim

There’s purpose on these roads.

My route governed by “when I went here”s and “last time”s

Past times guide me and I never thought i’d be familiar

with a Soho street

Person brushes or crashes past me and I say something kind of mean in my head

bu remember that self development girl on YouTube who told me not to think

ill of other people

Peaceful

is literally nothing in this city.

Trippy lights and displays make up the scenery and I’m overwhelmed but

they’re explaining why I should buy this and that and yes,

I agree,

I should buy it

Halt my walk to find it

Consume it.

There’s girls on the street and gum on the floor

Worlds upon worlds of un-ironed business attire, books carried in arms to feign intellect

and calculated hairstyles whilst I take extra steps to consciously avoid

these complex people

of Soho’s streets

Things you do on a walk alone are fluid and unforgettable/

A time of its own

Tracing how I’ve grown

I’ve been walking here for two years

but I still look for the same clues

on the same routes

I traversed back then and

thank

the racket of soho streets for

guiding me.