The bin-bags left at 07:38 this morning to the sound of gnawing hydraulics. They left behind a scatter of litter, bright in the oblique light. Shadows create spaces and texture. Canyon cracks in paving slabs. Polarised light from silver tower-blocks cut a fourth dimension in broken glass. The crossing is stretched with grass sprigs and wide mossy stones – soft on Churchill Way. A woman dressed in summer shoes and skirt looks at me, her top half is layered for socialist winters. This unbalanced fashion adds weight to my composition. Levelling with the grimy windows of Bartholomew’s Church I see spider-web panels crying out for slow film stock – light through an aperture that crisps pristine edges.
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