London has always been sort of an enigma to me. Several months ago, all I knew of this city was its residential cul-de-sacs and suburban roads, leading to family and family friend's houses. Through visiting over the years, I had been so close to the centre - the pulsing heart of the country, - but yet had bypassed its core. That was until January when I packed up my bags and left for the big city.

Since then, I've been thoroughly inducted as a Londoner. Long gone are the fresh doe eyes as I awoke every morning to take the tube to central, surrounded by natives who could barely notice my excitement through their sleepy daydreams. Instead of pausing to gaze in awe on my journey to work, I now briskly rush down its street and into the dark tunnels of the underground tube system. I zoom past other faces of people I've never known before in solidarity, as we all focus on our own destinations. But there are many times, I still find myself deeply fascinated. I pause midway and begin to admire the beauty of this city. On the surface I may be a Londoner, but my heart beats as a tourist, seeing this city for the first time all over again.