Environmental Aspects of the Taxi Industry in London
I still remember. Memories, akin to mosquitoes in amber, often poetically escapes our full understanding. They never seem to lose their vividity, inhabiting a bittersweet netherworld full of grace and sorrows. Youthful, and therefor foolish, I attempted to navigate through a kaleidoscope of senseless events, aimlessly floating in the smoke rings of providence. My effervescent mind was learning how to let go. Malleable and curious, I was easily impressed, often clearly lacking useful critical thinking. My mercurial personality was fuelled by a thirst for knowledge, or the simile of it at the least. From Plato to Barthes, and countless others, I furiously read, like a child trying to run before he made his first steps.I still remember. Memories, akin to mosquitoes in amber, often poetically escapes our full understanding. They never seem to lose their vividity, inhabiting a bittersweet netherworld full of grace and sorrows. Youthful, and therefor foolish, I attempted to navigate through a kaleidoscope of senseless events, aimlessly floating in the smoke rings of providence. My effervescent mind was learning how to let go. Malleable and curious, I was easily impressed, often clearly lacking useful critical thinking. My mercurial personality was fuelled by a thirst for knowledge, or the simile of it at the least. From Plato to Barthes, and countless others, I furiously read, like a child trying to run before he made his first steps.
I still remember. Memories, akin to mosquitoes in amber, often poetically escapes our full understanding. They never seem to lose their vividity, inhabiting a bittersweet netherworld full of grace and sorrows. Youthful, and therefor foolish, I attempted to navigate through a kaleidoscope of senseless events, aimlessly floating in the smoke rings of providence. My effervescent mind was learning how to let go. Malleable and curious, I was easily impressed, often clearly lacking useful critical thinking. My mercurial personality was fuelled by a thirst for knowledge, or the simile of it at the least. From Plato to Barthes, and countless others, I furiously read, like a child trying to run before he made his first steps.I still remember. Memories, akin to mosquitoes in amber, often poetically escapes our full understanding. They never seem to lose their vividity, inhabiting a bittersweet netherworld full of grace and sorrows. Youthful, and therefor foolish, I attempted to navigate through a kaleidoscope of senseless events, aimlessly floating in the smoke rings of providence. My effervescent mind was learning how to let go. Malleable and curious, I was easily impressed, often clearly lacking useful critical thinking. My mercurial personality was fuelled by a thirst for knowledge, or the simile of it at the least. From Plato to Barthes, and countless others, I furiously read, like a child trying to run before he made his first steps.