export of non-culture

The city is so strange.
Especially now when summer is thank god departing.
Some days ago I walked thru the Old City, and saw those Brits. And they were an unsightly thing.
From somewhere East London, judging by their accents. Drunk. Nearly naked. One of them was trying to put on a girl’s dress. I thought – there was some truth in the expression – Brits out.
How to reconcile a love for a language and history with this… export of non-culture?


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