this is the soundtrack that played on repeat in my head the entire time we meandered down portobello road. if it wasn't so crowded, I'd probably have been skipping. the street was buzzing with activity; everywhere I looked there was something beautiful or interesting. giant piles of handmade breads and pastries, tightly bound croquet balls that smelled of leather, white flowers that appeared to be dripping off the buildings. portobello road is certainly one of a kind.