There’s a centaur at Canary Wharf. He stands outside the Jubilee Line entrance on Upper Bank Street, looking through the trees to the water at Wood Wharf, beautiful, damaged, alone.
I made a promise to myself to spend some time really looking at him. On 6th November, just after seven in the morning, as a perfect sunrise spread true gold, I kept that promise. And after I’d looked, and marvelled, I took photos. From 7.33 to 7.38 (inclusive, for my pedant chums) I snapped a run of images on a basic camera.
Maybe it was the light, but I think they capture a little of his desolate and haunting beauty.
-
- Sunrise at Wood Wharf
-
- Sun through trees: what the Centaur sees
-
- Centaur, front
-
- Credits
-
- On the plinth…
-
- haunting images
-
- of beautiful fragility
-
- and terrible emptiness.
-
- As the sun rises and people hurry past
-
- he watches
-
- alone.
You don’t half get around to see interesting places and stuff.
I do – but I think part of it is that my father taught me very early on to look at everything and be mindful of my surroundings instead of just racing through them. So I notice any beauty around me, even in a place one might not think of as beautiful, and I look for quirkiness and joyous oddity wherever I go.
Reblogged this on Centaurica.