202015 - Nobody on My Street Knows Each Other

I miss when a nod in the morning was normal.

Letter ID: LON-202015

Dear London,

I miss when I knew who lived on my street.

Not everyone, but enough to feel like I was part of something. A nod in the morning. A quick chat outside the front door. Borrowing sugar. Holding a parcel for someone. Small things that made the place feel lived in, not just occupied.

Somewhere along the way that changed. People move in and out quickly now. Doors stay closed. Names on buzzers change before you learn them. Half the flats feel like short stays. The other half feel like people passing through on their way to somewhere else. Sometimes I hear voices in the hallway and realise I have no idea who they belong to.

I do not think it is anyone’s fault. Life is expensive. Work is unstable. Rent goes up. People take what they can get. I understand all of that. I am part of it too. I have moved before. I have lived with strangers. I have been the new person on someone else’s landing.

But I notice it most when I come home. I walk through the front door and the hallway feels quiet in a different way. Not peaceful. Just disconnected. No familiar footsteps. No shared routines. No sense that anyone would notice if something was wrong.

I order food to my door. I collect parcels left by delivery drivers I have never met. I walk past neighbours I recognise only by their coat or their headphones. We share a building but not a relationship. We share a postcode but not a life.

Sometimes I think about when I was younger and how normal it felt to belong to a street. Not a community project. Not an organised thing. Just familiarity. Recognition. Feeling like you existed in other people’s lives, even slightly. Someone to say hello to. Someone to complain about the bins with. Someone to water your plants.

Now it feels like we all live next to each other but separately. Same building. Same city. Different worlds.

I do not know if London got bigger or if we got more tired. Maybe both. I miss the old city.
Sam

Occasionally we shape real stories into letters, so every voice is heard.

Source: Letter sent by writer

Photo Credits
Images are sourced to enhance the reading experience and do not depict the original writer
• Letter image: iStock.com/siimt