A City of Prose 
Andrew O’Hagan
It has become the odour of the age, flowers rotting in their cellophane wrappers. People began laying them on the steps of St Pancras Church the morning after the 7 July bombings, and within a day or two the steps had been transformed into a slope of glinting paper, the flowers strangely urban behind the police cordon. It was also a slope of words: handwritten messages, emails, shop-bought cards and pavement script. The church’s columns were chalked with words too, and the Word of God – a King James Bible, ‘User’s Guide on Back’ – appeared to float unabashed on a sea of London scrawls.
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Andrew O’Hagan’s book of essays, The Atlantic Ocean, will be out soon in paperback.
Other articles by this contributor:
Good Fibs · Truman Capote
At the Design Museum · Peter Saville
Iraq, 2 May 2005 · Two Soldiers
The God Squad · Andrew O’Hagan in Bushland
A Car of One’s Own · Chariots of Desire
Disgrace under Pressure · Andrew O’Hagan reads some lad mags
How to Survive Your Own Stupidity · Homage to Laurel and Hardy
Blame it on the boogie · In Pursuit of Michael Jackson
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