In the dark, carriages filled with muted yellow light hurtle along the train lines. Tower blocks with dimly lit balconies rise up of the gloom. A shadow walks along. A net curtain twitches.
Sky scrapers in Docklands bright, neon signs. Empty offices bleeding light into the night.
Ghostly pale Tower Bridge, an appartition between warehouse buildings, appears and disappears, its gold catching the moonlight.
Framed window of all-bar one. Crowded inside. A man sits drinking a beer, smoking. A woman leaning in, talks intently to his ear. He rests his forehead on the fingers of the hand holding the cigarette. Bright orange heat. My eyes readjust to the perspective - the woman belongs to a group sitting behind him. The man sits alone. In a crowded bar. Bathed in yellow light that seeps into the street. Reminds me of an Edward Hopper painting. Lonely in a crowded place.