There’s a moment as you cross the Strand, waiting in the scrum of tourists and city workers as buses, taxis and bikes flow by, where, if you look up, you see a silver sliver of the Thames. The river is only a block away, but, if you’ve walked south, this is the first inkling you have of it, a miraculous luminescent gap in the cold concrete.
A Love Letter to the River
A Love Letter to the River
A Love Letter to the River
There’s a moment as you cross the Strand, waiting in the scrum of tourists and city workers as buses, taxis and bikes flow by, where, if you look up, you see a silver sliver of the Thames. The river is only a block away, but, if you’ve walked south, this is the first inkling you have of it, a miraculous luminescent gap in the cold concrete.