Beneath the Veil of London’s Sky
The morning light crept timidly over the horizon, hesitant to fully reveal itself, as if it knew the day ahead would be one of London’s quintessential gray canvases. The city awoke beneath a veil of low-hanging clouds, their underbellies brushed with the faintest hints of silver. The air was cool, carrying with it the faint scent of damp earth and the distant tang of the Thames. It was a day that promised little in the way of sunshine but offered instead the kind of atmospheric drama that only London could deliver. The temperature hovered around 9 degrees Celsius, a crispness in the air that nipped at exposed skin and sent Londoners reaching for their scarves and trench coats. The forecast had spoken of overcast skies with intermittent drizzle, and by mid-morning, the first droplets began to fall, soft and sporadic, like the city was being teased by the heavens. The rain was not the torrential kind, nor the kind that soaked through to the bone, but rather a gentle mist that clung...