The City Looking Back

Most of the time, I’m guilty of the same thing as everyone else.

Head up. Walking fast. Mentally already somewhere else. The street becomes a surface you use, not something you notice until it trips you up or splashes you.

This one did neither.

A puddle after rain isn’t exactly rare in London, but this one caught me off guard. I nearly stepped straight through it, which would’ve been the end of the photograph and the start of a damp sock. Instead, I stopped. Looked down. And there it was the city, quietly upside down, minding its own business.

There’s something slightly ridiculous about realising you’ve been walking past moments like this your entire life.

The building in the reflection looks solid and confident when you see it head-on. In the puddle, it’s softer. Broken up. Less sure of itself. A bit like the rest of us, if we’re honest.

That’s the part I like.

Reflections slow you down because your brain needs a second to catch up. You know what you’re looking at, but it doesn’t quite behave as expected. For a brief moment, you’re paying attention, not because you planned to, but because the street asked you to.

No people in the frame, no drama unfolding. Just a small pause in the middle of a normal day. The kind that usually passes unnoticed because we’re busy getting to the next thing.

I didn’t take this because it was clever or technically impressive. I took it because it reminded me how rarely I look down literally and figuratively.

Sometimes the city isn’t trying to impress you.

Sometimes it’s just quietly hoping you’ll notice.

And occasionally, it succeeds - just before you step in it.