N. 53°24’33”, W. 02°59’42”
The rain smells of the sea. Gulls sit on the cctv cameras and watch for an opportunity. On the waterfront, between the huge old buildings, the roads are silent except for the wind. The money made from journeys at sea settled into these grand blocks a long time ago. Now they wait like ships that will never move again.
The rain shakes the coffee chains’ windows – the rubber soles of my shoes leak and so I am sheltering in the dry. A pigeon has slipped through the doorway to escape the downpour. There is a thud as its grey body hits the pane of glass. A ball of kinetic feathers, it flaps above the tables and bounces off the window again. It falls to the ground in confusion. Turning its head from side to side, it waits to understand and watches the Scousers drinking coffee.