London from Above
Its head is too large, out of proportion to the other members; its face and hands have also grown monstrous, irregular and ‘out of all Shape’. … A body racked with fever, and choked by ashes, it proceeds from plague to fire. —Peter Ackroyd, London: The Biography
Ten thousand red-brown mouths of chimney pots gape at us as we descend, jet engines howling, into the haze— a mutual amazement. Here is the yellow air of our to-and-froing. Here are the housing estates and the scrapyards, groomed swards of a park and chaotic allotments, the circling traffic. There’s the river and its slick sheen of a carcass. Plane trees all in a line make faint, green gestures with the stumps of their limbs.
Dave Bonta
BronLicentie:CC BY-SA 4.0