London is a woman, she has her rhythms, her daily inhalations and exhalations of people and cars, her longer cycles of decay and reconstruction, the re-examinations of her heart.

A cabby could get lost in her tangled heart without The Knowledge, mapping paths of travel from one side of her to the other. The Knowledge must be learned and it is hard.

You can map, if you know how, the winding paths of a city across a body. Each piece contains the whole. A hologram. You need only belong to the city to have the city belong to you.

Her name is Martha, which she herself considers old-fashioned but charming. For a consideration, she’ll take a person studying The Knowledge and show them alternative ways to teach and to learn.

She teaches them London in rhythm of her breathing, the wet slickness of her sweat and the surge or her lips. She teaches her own net of veins and old scars and calm hideaways.

She teaches them London in her heartbeat and teaches them London in their own.