London has these weird sunsets sometimes. The sky gets this incredibly yellowish tinge that literally bathes everything in an eerie tone. We had one of those nights this past week. Of course, by the time I stopped ruminating about the possible root cause of this phenomenon, fed the cat, finished my butterscotch pudding, read the kids a bedtime story, grabbed the camera and headed out the door, things had darkened appreciably. Still, the sky looked pretty unreal, and I feel privileged to have captured another one of those fleeting photographic moments.
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Thanks for bringing that up! I get confused, too. This city's propensity to name everything after the British London doesn't help, either. For example, on my way into work, I cross over the Thames River. I ride on Oxford, Queens, Wellington, and Dufferin streets. You figure they could come up with some original names. But nooooo.
At least we're not alone: More broadly, the province of Ontario has identity crises all over the place. Cities like Paris, Delhi, Odessa, and Perth all dot the map.
It's kind of fun when you're driving. My favorite place name is Battersea. Aside from being the title to an unbelievably cool song by Hooverphonic, the word is, on its own, incredibly descriptive of that town's waterside perch. Language is a wondrous thing, isn't it?
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