I arrived in London with nothing. A bicycle.A camera.Rain in my face.I rode through noise.Through sirens and red lights.Through the pulse of the city.Between deliveries,I stopped time.Strangers crossing.Windows reflecting.Hands.Smoke.Waiting.London was not a dream.It was movement.Steel.Loneliness.Light after rain.I was invisible.So I could see.Those moments became London Zone 1 —a memory of a city and the making of myself.
LONDON ZONE 1
I arrived in London with nothing. A bicycle.A camera.Rain in my face.I rode through noise.Through sirens and red lights.Through the pulse of the city.Between deliveries,I stopped time.Strangers crossing.Windows reflecting.Hands.Smoke.Waiting.London was not a dream.It was movement.Steel.Loneliness.Light after rain.I was invisible.So I could see.Those moments became London Zone 1 —a memory of a city and the making of myself.