ABSTRACT
It’s 9:15 on a Thursday night and I’m leaning against the bar in a hip and under lit restaurant that sits between London’s sleek and shiny financial district and its up-and-coming “Silicon Roundabout,” a gritty traffic interchange speckled with both start-ups and Google offices. As candles flicker, the room buzzes with animated conversations, plates and silverware clatter, and cocktail shakers make their steady “ch-ch-ch-ch.” I take in the scene, one that’s replicated in conurbations of human talent, capital flow, and privilege around the world, from Singapore to Paris to Dubai to New York. It occurs to me that I could at this moment be anywhere, as I try to count the number of languages I hear, as I catalog the different accents of English that surround me.
