Brighton is a place which will always be special to me. It's the place I can remember always being most excited about visiting when I was a kid. My mum would bundle myself and my sister into the car and we would make the hour and a half voyage down south, not stopping until we hit the sea.

Coming from a small town, where the people live in each others pockets and nothing substantial ever happens, Brighton always felt like this incredibly exciting culture shock to me. The colours, the smells, the weird and wonderful things on every corner. To paraphrase 'Up', it was a comforting proof that 'adventure is out there'. It was one of those places where you just knew you could be anyone you wanted to be, and nobody would bat an eyelash.

I can never shake the idea that Brighton has really had a positive impact on me as an individual. It was the place where I first saw an original Banksy with my own eyes, which triggered my burning love for street art, and my passion for art in general.

It was the first place I decided to thoroughly document on my camera, sparking my love for photography, cinematography, and so to some extent, film. I feel like many of the creative interests I have became apparent to me during the time I spent in this city.

It was a place which taught me the values of acceptance, by opening my eyes to a community of people so unique and different from one another, yet so happy to coexist. Values of love and understanding for other people. The importance of being green and looking after the city you call home.

It's a city which I feel a strange attachment to for all of these reasons and so many more.

The thing about Brighton is that you cannot not fit in. It's impossible to stick out like a sore thumb, because everyone else does exactly that. How can you stand out when you're surrounded by thousands of other people refusing to conform? It is the home of the introvert and the extrovert, the loud-dresser and the all-black-everything worshiper. It offers a mould for those who don't quite fit the mould.

Those weekends spent in Brighton were truly some of my happiest.

My sister and I used to love wondering around the lanes, and spending every last penny of our pocket money on what we thought were the cutest of vintage items, but looking back were just seriously over priced garments, with nothing unique about them other than the faint smell of moth balls they carried. But we'd treasure them anyway, because they somehow felt so special.

So many of my happy memories have been made on the beach, the pier and in the lanes of Brighton. Birthdays, cold January days and warm summer evenings. It's a place I know I'll continue visiting for years, and will always feel the same warm buzz every time I visit.

It is a home away from home which I am forever grateful for.

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