I lived in Peckham for 2 years when I first moved to London in 2010, renting a room in a Victorian house off the main road, 10 minutes walking from Peckham Rye Rail.
I had only a luggage and a backpack with me, dreams, hope and above all, I was hungry for something better in my life that the wrong relationship, the shitty pay job, the crap contract and “you are a women, make babies and stay at home” attitude still running in the DNA of my Country.
I wanted more and more and more…I was curious, I was in my late 20es and I felt like my life was running away from me, I felt I was living the choices of somebody else, I felt in a prison, I couldn’t breathe. And so I booked a one way ticket to London, slept for 10 days on the sofa of a friend’s friend living room, rolled into a school right away to improve my English that was pretty bad and found my first accommodation in Peckham sharing the flat with a Polish, a Bulgarian, a French, a Spanish and an Hungarian.
It was my first taste of the real London and I loved every second of it.
I didn’t have much money but I had freedom and for the first time in my life I felt that I was in charge.