Empty spaces.

We took a while leaving the Barbican last night after the experimental film showing; Chloe had made great chocolate chip cakes, and we somehow found ourselves in the backstage area. It's easy to get lost in there.

I was enthralled by the emptiness and calm that enveloped the building and its surroundings. Walking back to Moorgate station at midnight we passed under the airport-like tunnel, and crossed paths only once, with a lone businessman who had a white cowboy hat strung round his neck. It was a beautiful, tranquil night, the tall illuminated structures felt serene, and it haunted me this morning.

empty barbican

near silk street


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