Some time ago, while I was crossing the London Bridge, I stopped to watch what I like best — rich, heavy and complex water, covered by mother-of-pearl fabric, blurred by the clouds of mud, bewilderingly busy with a great number of vessels, whose white steam, moving spinnakers, all bizzare maneuvers that ballance bales and crates, […]
A collection of writings about place space writing and art …
Naked Cities Journal 