So I'm still in my romantic stage with London, I love it as a

In the words of Christian Cooke, “So I’m still in my romantic stage with London, I love it as a place.” Though spoken lightly, this utterance carries a profound truth about the human soul: that we do not only fall in love with people, but also with cities, with lands, with the very spaces that shape our days and whisper to our hearts. To call it a romantic stage is to recognize that places, like lovers, awaken in us passion, awe, and longing. They meet us not only with buildings and streets, but with mystery and promise, as though they, too, are partners in the story of our lives.

The romantic stage is that first season of wonder when every sight is new, every sound is music, and every turn of the street feels like an unveiling of beauty. Just as the beloved’s smile can make the world radiant, so too does a city in this stage seem to glow with endless charm. But this stage also carries a teaching: that love of place, like love of person, must grow deeper over time, or else fade into disillusion. To remain in romance with a city is not to live in illusion, but to choose to see beyond its flaws, to embrace its whole being.

History offers many examples of souls who entered into romance with cities. Think of Charles Dickens, who walked the foggy streets of London, capturing in words both its splendor and its grime. To him, the city was not mere stone and soot, but a living organism, full of character, vice, and vitality. Though he knew its hardships, he still loved it fiercely, for it was the stage upon which humanity’s struggles and triumphs unfolded. Cooke’s words echo this same devotion: that to be in love with London is to be enchanted by its contradictions, its weight of history, its pulse of life.

And yet, the ancients also remind us that this feeling is universal. The Greeks sang of Athens, not only as their city, but as their mother. Romans exalted Rome, calling it the eternal city, believing it to be destiny itself. To love a place romantically is to feel rooted, to sense that the stones beneath your feet hold stories older than your own, and that by walking among them, you enter into something eternal. This is not mere affection—it is a bond, a covenant between soul and soil.

But the romantic stage also warns us: just as the glow of new love can dim, so can the awe of a city fade if we cease to look with fresh eyes. For routine and disillusion are enemies of romance. To sustain love for a place requires effort—it requires wandering into hidden corners, learning its history, listening to its people, and allowing its rhythms to become part of your own. The lesson is that love of place, like love of person, is not a gift preserved by chance, but by care and attention.

Thus, the teaching is this: cherish the wonder of your first romantic stage, but do not let it pass into indifference. Instead, deepen it. Seek the soul of the places you inhabit. Learn their stories, honor their struggles, and rejoice in their beauty, even when veiled in imperfection. In so doing, your relationship with a city becomes not fleeting passion, but abiding devotion.

And what should you do in your own life? Do not walk blindly through your streets. Look upon your surroundings with the eyes of a lover. Find what is beautiful, even in the ordinary. Mark a corner café, a quiet park, or the curve of a bridge as sacred, for these are the details that turn a city into a beloved. If you travel, enter each new place as though it were a romance waiting to unfold. And if you stay, let your love grow roots, until the city and your soul are woven together in one story.