Upon Arrival in London

I landed in London at approximately noon and was ecstatic to discover outside of customs one of my dear friends Grishma, perhaps a bit travel weary but decked out in the baddest plum--you heard correctly--jeans you've ever seen. If you're feeling any pangs of jealousy about the jeans I assure you my envy is far greater. Soon we were on our way into that great city to tread the very same soil which Pip, Jude (the obscure), and countless other literary heroes have (fictionally) trodden. As we walked the fabled cobblestone (and asphalt) streets I was overwhelmed by the grace of the ancient brick edifices and enthralled by the intricacy of the Victorian lattice-work. Most impressive was the sheer mass of truly beautiful buildings--not one here or there but seemingly every building on every street for miles. However, before too long an eerie, uncomfortable prickling began working its way down my back and finally settled into a stale gnawing in the pit of my stomach. Something wasn’t quite right here. But what? I couldn’t place it. I began to notice strange details. Like this:

Notice anything unusual about this seemingly inconspicuous door? I’ll give you a clue, look at the handle—it’s in the middle of the door, not the side. One of the richest parts of London and they put the door handle in the wrong spot. And it’s not just this door, every door on that street is like this. Strange. Or how about this:

Notice this gravestone outside a quaint chapel in London. There’s no name. What’s a grave stone without a name? Certainly NOT a gravestone. Here I began to grow truly suspicious:

Now, I’ve been on this world long enough to know that people just don’t build houses like this. Anyone who’s lived in a suburb of Phoenix can attest that houses follow one of three floor plans, and this isn’t one of them. Then the awful truth dawned on me: either this is some sort of awful illusion or London doesn’t exist.
Shocking, yes. Hard to swallow, yes. A bitter and disilusioning truth to acknowledge. Once I realized London is but a fantasy I began noticing all kinds of other flaws in the illusion. Take this quaint scene for instance:

Lovely, isn’t it? However, I regret to inform you that Grishma is actually standing in front of a painting here, the light pole is hiding the edge where the brick wall meets the backdrop. Or how about this street corner:

Absolutely beautiful. As I strode towards the arched doorway I couldn't help wondering what was to come--a sprawling urban garden? More breathtaking scenes from England's best architects? Eagerly I quickened my step and turned the corner to discover...a dingy wall with a door labeled “Epcot Center Employees Only”. Upon this discovery I was furious, but determined to have the last laugh. Here I am deliberately ignoring the lovely brick building behind me. Take that, London.