Yuppie moment.

I am sat in a cafe on Brick Lane, leather jacket clad, typing on my powerbook, a blue 1920's ring on the fourth finger of my right hand tap-tap-tapping the silver keys. Underground rap over a sultry jazz beat thumps in the background, and the words "I exist despite you" linger on the back wall in neon red lights. The uber-cool baristas behind the counter smile, one with a pen somehow entangled in his curly hair, another with impossibly huge glasses and an impossibly bald head. To my left- my mobile, wireless username card and soy chai latte. To my right- two others on laptops, modern salads and macbooks, and piles of photocopied textbook articles.

Here I am.

Everything has changed.

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