A visitor once described London as a great party you’re not invited to, full of secret, niche things down side-alleys that you’d never know about if you didn’t know someone who knows someone. On Thursday, for example, shoppers at a busy street market were walking backwards and forwards over a glass pavement, under which this was going on. And this is just about as niche as it gets.
Look into my eyes when you hurt me.
Measure me with your stare.