Whichever Way You Throw Me I Will Stand

At 11:45 yesterday City Hall emptied itself of workers as we made our way to Potters Field to participate in the two minutes' silence. Gone was any notion of the awkward need for comformity - I, and mostly everyone, I think, participated in it not because they feared how it would look if they didn't, but because they genuinely wanted to be there.

Sally Hamwee made an eloquently minimalist address to mark the beginning and end. Most people lowered their heads, but I felt that this ritual was as much about defiance as it was about remembrance, so I kept my head up. The way in which everything slowed down was beautiful, the whole event seeming to be a strange blend of shared sadness, comfort, resilience and strength.

I've lived in London for three and a half years, but that was the first time that I felt like a resident.