I had just stepped off the train in London and was walking through this long, dark pedestrian tunnel when I heard music echoing off the walls. As I got closer, I saw this man standing in silhouette, playing his flute for tips.

The contrast was striking — the bright light at the end of the tunnel, the lone musician, and the people walking past him toward the exit.

It felt like the perfect welcome to London: a quiet, artistic moment right after the loud, emotional days I’d just had in Ireland and Belfast.

I walked out of the metro tunnel and stepped into daylight and this is what I saw.

A tourist with a big video camera was filming two mounted police officers on horseback as they calmly directed traffic.

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The sound of the horses’ hooves clopping on the pavement competed with the sounds of the vehicles and the voices of the police directing traffic and pedestrians. And a tourist-filled bus and a classic black taxi completed the picture.

I walked up and saw this massive crowd gathered behind metal barriers in front of this enormous, ornate building. My first thought was, “What in the world is going on here?”

I had no idea it was almost time for the famous Changing of the Guard. Everyone else clearly knew — they were packed in, waiting patiently with cameras ready. I just happened to stumble right into the middle of it.

I stumbled into this massive crowd waiting for the Changing of the Guard. Hundreds of people packed together behind the barriers, all hoping to catch a glimpse of the ceremony.

I had no idea when I woke up today I’d be seeing this, but I was happy to be there.

I turned around in the middle of the crowd at Buckingham Palace and saw this massive, ornate monument rising up behind me. I had no idea what it was at the time — I just knew it was huge, elaborate, and impressive.

This is the Victoria Memorial, standing 25 meters (82 feet) tall. Unveiled in 1911 by King George V ten years after Queen Victoria’s death, it was placed directly in front of Buckingham Palace as a grand tribute to her.

At the very top is a golden figure of Victory, while Queen Victoria herself is seated below, surrounded by symbolic figures representing peace, progress, and other virtues.

Even though I wasn’t particularly moved by royal history, I still recognized this as something special and wanted to take a photo of it.

I had just stumbled into the huge crowd in front of Buckingham Palace when I decided to take this selfie. One of the very few I took during the entire trip.

I’m smiling because I was genuinely happy — a 22-year-old kid from Nebraska, thousands of miles from home, standing in front of one of the most famous places in the world with absolutely no plan. Just pure adventure.

This remains one of my favorite photos from the whole journey.

While packed into the crowd at Buckingham Palace, I looked up and spotted this police officer sitting tall on his horse. He was calmly watching over the scene as everyone waited for the Changing of the Guard.

There was something striking about the image — the officer’s formal uniform and the powerful horse contrasting with the sea of casual tourists around him.

This police officer on horseback was actively directing the large crowd gathered in front of Buckingham Palace. From his elevated position, he had a clear view and was gesturing to help manage the people waiting for the Changing of the Guard.

I loved how calm and authoritative he looked amid all the excitement and chaos of the crowd. It was another classic British scene I stumbled into — formal tradition meeting everyday tourism.

Still not entirely sure what was happening, I flowed through the dense crowd trying to find a better vantage point. The energy was high — people jostling for position, cameras held high, everyone in a great mood, expectantly waiting for something to happen.

I found myself right in the middle of it, camera in hand, just trying to see what everyone else was so excited about.

I had worked my way through the dense crowd and finally found what felt like the best spot I was going to get. At 5'11", I was as tall or taller than most people around me, so I held my camera high above my head with both arms outstretched and clicked the shutter.

I couldn’t see through the viewfinder at all — I had to completely trust my instincts. However, at this point in my photography journey I had gotten pretty good at this technique, so I was confident I was capturing strong images even without looking.

This is one of the photos that resulted from that method. Even though I didn’t fully understand the significance of the ceremony at the time, I was determined to bring something home from the moment.

I heard them before I saw them — the steady, powerful sound of a marching band approaching.

Suddenly, the Band of the Coldstream Guards (or one of the other Foot Guards regiments) came into view, marching in formation across the parade ground in front of Buckingham Palace. This was the famous Changing of the Guard ceremony, a tradition that dates back over 300 years.

The crowd surged with excitement as the soldiers in their iconic red tunics and bearskin hats marched past. I held my camera high above my head and clicked instinctively, confident I was capturing the moment.

I will admit, at this point I was beginning to be impressed by the pageantry and precision of it all.

Once the first group marched past, another detachment of guards appeared inside the palace gates and began their own precise drill and marching routine.

The crowd pressed forward against the fence, cameras held high, trying to get a better view of the ceremony unfolding within the palace grounds. I was right there with them, still shooting blindly with my camera held over my head.

This was the heart of the Changing of the Guard — the formal, disciplined changing of responsibilities between regiments in one of the most famous ceremonies in the world.

While everyone else was focused on the guards and the ceremony, I became equally fascinated by the crowd itself.

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I turned my camera toward the people around me — the way they shielded their eyes from the sun, stood on tiptoes, craned their necks, and held their cameras high to catch a glimpse of the show.. There was something compelling about all these strangers from different countries sharing this one moment together, completely absorbed in the pageantry.

This photo captures that side of the experience for me — not just the formal tradition happening inside the gates, but the shared human reaction happening outside them.

I remember standing in the middle of this crowd thinking how different everyone’s story was. I was sure many of these people had planned their trip for months, booked tours, and scheduled their entire vacation around seeing the Changing of the Guard.

Meanwhile, I had simply walked out of a metro tunnel, saw a big crowd, and wandered over with zero plan. If I had turned left instead of right when I came up from the station, I would have completely missed this entire experience.

Was this another divinely guided moment for me? It sure feels that way now.

And then they approached — the marching guards in their red tunics and bearskin hats, moving in perfect formation across the parade ground.

The energy in the crowd felt surprisingly like a rock and roll concert. Girls sat on their boyfriends’ shoulders, people craned their necks, and everyone pushed forward trying to get a better view as the band played. I held my camera high above my head again, taking my pictures from deep within the sea of people.

It was quite a spectacle.

The guards continued their procession, marching in precise formation past the waiting crowd. This part of the ceremony is when one regiment formally hands over responsibility for guarding the palace to the incoming regiment — a tradition that has been performed for centuries.

This enthusiastic older gentleman was walking through the crowd yelling “God Save the Queen!” at the top of his lungs with pure joy and passion.

He was a real character — full of energy and patriotism — and stood out among the mostly quiet tourists who were focused on taking pictures. His enthusiasm was contagious and added a wonderful human touch to the whole experience.

I quickly raised my camera to capture him in the moment.

The guards stood in perfect, motionless formation inside the palace grounds. Everything about them — the tall bearskin hats, the crisp uniforms, the rigid posture — felt incredibly formal and precise.

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I included the bars of the gate in my composition, which added to the sense of formality and structure. It was such a contrast to the casual, excited crowd on my side of the fence.

Even though royal traditions weren’t my main interest, I had to admit the level of discipline and pageantry was impressive.

I kept moving along the fence, trying to find better angles. This shot shows what most of us experienced — peering through the thick vertical bars of the palace gate, craning our necks and holding cameras up high to catch glimpses of the guards standing at attention inside.

The formality and distance created by the fence made the whole ceremony feel even more like a performance — something beautiful but slightly out of reach.

In the middle of the large crowd, this young girl sat high on someone’s shoulders, intently holding her small 110 camera up to capture the ceremony.

The 110 was an inexpensive, simple camera popular in the 1990s that used much smaller film than my 35mm. This was clearly her camera — she had it securely around her wrist and looked completely comfortable using it.

I love watching other photographers, no matter their age or the gear they use, enjoy this hobby. Her innocence, combined with the simplicity of her little plastic camera and that deeply focused expression, always makes me smile when I look at this image. I hope she still has these pictures from this day.

While adults around her jostled for position, she had one of the best views in the entire crowd — completely absorbed in the moment.

That style of camera has long gone out of use. One reason I connect with this photo so much is because at Bob’s Superstore Camera Department, I developed thousands of rolls of 110 film. I can still remember standing in the darkroom — or using a dark box with my hands inside — carefully loading the exposed film into the containers our developing machine used. These little plastic cameras were once used by millions of people around the world to capture their most important life moments. Today they don’t even exist anymore, replaced by iPhones that are a hundred times better. That’s why images like this feel like such a special time capsule of the early 1990s.

Once the ceremony seemed to be winding down and the energy in the crowd started to dissipate, I began walking away. As I did, I noticed these people had climbed up onto the stone balustrade and fence to get a better view during the event — just like fans at a rock concert finding creative spots to watch the show.

It was a fun detail that stuck with me. Everyone was doing whatever they could to catch a glimpse of the pageantry.

The Scale of the Scene

Stepping back from the crowd gave me a much better sense of the full scale of the event. The massive gathering stretched out along the front of Buckingham Palace, with the grand Victoria Memorial on the left and the enormous palace itself dominating the background.

From this distance, you could really appreciate how big the space was and how many people had shown up. It was quite a production for a Sunday morning — something I had simply wandered into by accident.

Stepping back even farther gave me a true sense of just how enormous Buckingham Palace really is. The long, grand facade stretches across the entire frame, with the huge crowd gathered in front looking almost small by comparison.

I was awed by the sheer scale and grandeur of the building, and impressed with its size and symmetry.

This was the final photograph I took at Buckingham Palace — stepping back to take in the full scale of what I had accidentally stumbled into.

The towering Victoria Memorial stood proudly in the foreground with the massive palace stretching out behind it, while hundreds of people filled the open space, all drawn to the same historic tradition. From this wider perspective, I could truly feel the grandeur of the setting.

I had wandered here with no plan, no expectations, and no real interest in royalty — yet here I was, standing in one of the most iconic places in the world, camera in hand, capturing a moment in time. It was a perfect example of how this entire trip was unfolding: beautiful things kept finding me when I simply stayed open and kept walking.

After the loud, crowded energy of the Changing of the Guard at Buckingham Palace, this quiet moment was the perfect contrast.

I came upon this young woman sitting peacefully on the steps, away from the crowds. The sunlight and shadows, the stillness, and the simplicity of the scene felt like an instant reset. It was a gentle reminder that after intense, overwhelming experiences, these small pockets of calm are what help us keep going.

This photo captures the balance I needed at that moment — the loud spectacle followed by the quiet pause.

This is the famous Piccadilly Circus, one of London’s most iconic intersections. The word “Circus” comes from the Latin for “circle” or “ring,” referring to the roundabout where several major roads converge. “Piccadilly” dates back to the 17th century, named after “piccadills” — the stiff, ruffled collars that were fashionable at the time.

Even in 1994, it was a bustling, neon-lit hub full of tourists, shoppers, and the energy of central London. The giant signs for McDonald’s, TDK, and Sanyo were classic landmarks of the era. I wandered through here after leaving Buckingham Palace, soaking in the contrast between the formal pageantry I had just seen and the commercial, vibrant pulse of the city.

This is the heart of London.

The famous roundabout was buzzing with energy — bright advertising signs, constant movement, and people from all over the world filling the square. In the center stood the ornate fountain, while the surrounding buildings and lights created that unmistakable Piccadilly atmosphere.

As a photographer, I especially like how the young woman jogging into the frame brings a sense of human motion into the scene, adding another layer of energy on top of the moving vehicles and bustling crowd. It pulls the viewer right into the moment.

I had never seen so many pigeons in my life!

As I wandered through Piccadilly Circus, I suddenly came upon this wild scene — a man with a cigarette in his mouth, completely surrounded by pigeons. It looked like he was holding half a dozen or more of them at once, with dozens more swirling around his feet and landing on him.

I thought, “What the heck is going on here?” It was such a chaotic, strange, and entertaining moment. Of course, I had to get closer to investigate and capture it.

This was pure Piccadilly Circus energy — loud, crowded, a little bit crazy, and completely unforgettable.

Stepping back gave me a much better sense of the full scene at Piccadilly Circus. In the center stands the Shaftesbury Memorial Fountain, commonly (but incorrectly) known as the “Eros Fountain.” The winged figure on top is actually Anteros, the Greek god of requited love. It was erected in 1893 to honor Lord Shaftesbury, a philanthropist known for his work helping the poor.

The grand fountain, the surrounding buildings, the constant flow of people, and hundreds of pigeons scattered across the square created a lively, almost chaotic atmosphere.

This wider perspective shows how central and energetic this famous London landmark really was. Tourists, locals, and pigeons all sharing the same busy space — it was the perfect embodiment of the vibrant, slightly overwhelming energy of central London in 1994.

As I wandered through Piccadilly Circus, I came upon this delightful scene — a young girl standing right in the middle of a massive flock of pigeons, arms raised, feeding them with pure joy.

Dozens of birds swirled around her, landing on the ground and even fluttering near her hands. She was completely absorbed in the moment, lost in that simple, magical interaction between a child and the birds.

This was the beginning of a lovely little story unfolding in front of me. I couldn’t help but smile as I raised my camera.

The young girl was completely surrounded by pigeons now. One had just taken flight right in front of her, wings fully spread, while she stood mesmerized in the middle of the flock.

You can feel her total absorption in the experience — the wonder, the slight nervousness, and the pure joy of being right in the middle of it all. The pigeons were everywhere, on the ground and in the air, creating this beautiful chaos around her.

This is my favorite photograph from the entire day at Piccadilly Circus.

The young girl was completely surrounded by pigeons — one perched confidently on her head, several more in her hands, and a whole flock swirling around her feet. The boy standing beside her watched with pure fascination. In that moment, she wasn’t just feeding birds… she was the center of their world.

My instincts as a photographer kicked in. I dropped down to my knees to get low, to her level, so the viewer could experience the scene from a child’s perspective. The composition, the action, the wonder — everything came together in this single frame.

This frame would have been my absolute favorite of the entire series.

The young girl was still surrounded by pigeons, with one perched proudly on her head, while she looked down feeding the flock at her feet. Everything was happening so fast — the birds were constantly moving, landing, and taking off.

In my head, my self-conversation was “keep walking kid, keep walking,” but the bird flew off before he moved away.

I love this photo anyway. It captures the beautiful, chaotic energy of the moment perfectly.

This is the sweetest image from the entire series.

A few minutes after I first saw the man with the cigarette standing in his own world, surrounded by dozens of pigeons, I came back to find him gently helping this young girl. He was patiently showing her how to hold her hand just right so a pigeon would land and eat from her palm.

In that moment, they weren’t strangers anymore. They were connected through their shared love of the birds. The man’s kindness, the girl’s trust and concentration, and the pigeon taking that leap of faith — it all came together perfectly.

Three layers of creation unfolding in one frame.

A street artist sat at the base of one of the great bronze Landseer Lions - iconic sculptures that guard Trafalgar Square, carefully sketching a portrait of the man posing for him. I stood back with my camera, quietly capturing the entire scene — the artist, his subject, and the powerful sculpture watching over them.

As I stood in Trafalgar Square, I looked down the long avenue and caught my first real view of Big Ben rising in the distance. Even from here, it was unmistakable.

Trafalgar Square is one of London’s most famous public spaces. It was named after the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805, a decisive British naval victory. At its center stands Nelson’s Column, and guarding the four corners are the famous bronze Landseer Lions, sculpted by Sir Edwin Landseer. The square has long been a gathering place for Londoners and visitors alike — a crossroads of history, tourism, and everyday city life.

Seeing Big Ben from here felt like a proper “I’m really in London” moment. I had wandered into one of the city’s most iconic viewpoints without even planning it.

There seemed to be more pigeons than people in this part of the square.

The ground was covered with them — hundreds of birds walking, pecking, and suddenly taking flight in bursts. Every few seconds another small explosion of wings would erupt as the flock shifted and moved together. It was chaotic, loud, and strangely hypnotic.

I stood there for a while just watching the scene. It felt like the pigeons had claimed this part of London for themselves, and the humans were just visitors passing through their territory.

This seemed to be the main event for many families visiting the square that day.

A young family stood right in the middle of the chaos as dozens of pigeons swarmed around their feet. The two little children watched with wide eyes while their parents tried to navigate the sea of birds. All around them, other tourists were doing the exact same thing — feeding the pigeons, taking photos, and laughing as the birds fluttered and landed on people.

It was a small moment that felt strangely charming. I took this picture, then decided it was time to move on.

London has long been one of the most multicultural cities in the world, and this photo shows it clearly.

As I walked through the streets, I saw people from many different backgrounds sharing the same space — families, tourists, and locals all moving through the city together. The variety of clothing, languages, and faces made it obvious that London wasn’t just a city for the Brits; it was a true international crossroads.

This is a member of the Household Cavalry (Life Guards regiment) performing mounted sentry duty outside Horse Guards on Whitehall.

Although it looks like pure pageantry, these are real, serving soldiers in the British Army. When they are not standing guard in London, they serve as armoured reconnaissance troops and have seen active combat overseas.

The large crowd had gathered because tourists love getting close to the horses and taking photos. The man in the white t-shirt had walked right up to the horse, which is why the guard was looking down at him.

It was a classic “only in London” moment — centuries-old military tradition meeting modern-day tourism.

This is another member of the King’s Guards (Foot Guards regiment) performing ceremonial sentry duty in central London.

Like the mounted soldier we saw earlier, this is a real, serving British Army soldier. When they are assigned to public duties, they wear these historic uniforms and stand guard at royal residences and important sites. While it looks purely ceremonial, they are trained soldiers who rotate between these duties and active operational roles.

The man standing directly in front of him was trying to talk to the guard. Tourists often do this, even though the guards are instructed to remain still and not engage in conversation while on duty. You can see other people gathered around taking photos, which was very common.

As I was walking through the city, this young couple caught my eye.

They were standing right in the middle of the sidewalk, completely wrapped up in each other — her arms around his neck, his hands on her waist — lost in their own little world. Everything else around them (the cars, the noise, the people) seemed to fade into the background.

It was a sweet, simple moment of young love happening right in the middle of busy London.

As I walked past this building, this quiet scene on the steps caught my attention.

An older man sat near the bottom of the stairs with what looked like half-eaten food beside him. His body language made me think he might be homeless. A woman was walking down the steps right past him, holding her purse. It felt like two very different moments happening in the same space — one person sitting alone and withdrawn, and another simply moving through her day.

I didn’t know their stories, but the contrast between them felt very real.

This is the Elizabeth Tower (commonly known as Big Ben) and the Palace of Westminster behind me — one of the most iconic views in London.

I stopped for a quick selfie here. I don’t love my expression in this one, but without a camera with a built-in mirror like we have today, what I got is what I got — no do-overs. Film photography was unforgiving that way. You just pointed, hoped for the best, and kept moving.

Still, I’m glad I have this. Me in front of Big Ben - heck yeah!

This is the view most people picture when they think of London.

From across the River Thames, the Palace of Westminster (Houses of Parliament) stretches along the riverbank, with the Elizabeth Tower (Big Ben) rising on the left and the Victoria Tower on the right. It’s one of the most recognizable and photographed skylines in the world.

I stopped here for a moment to take this wider shot. After spending so much time in the busy streets and crowds, it felt good to step back and take in the full scale and beauty of this historic complex from across the water.

Even on an overcast day, it still looked majestic.

Although this picture is not hard for anyone to take — just stand on the bridge and point your camera that way. As long as it’s in focus, you’ll have a glorious image.

So although I wasn’t technically challenged to capture this, I sure am glad I took it, because it is a glorious image of the most famous London scene.

And, added bonus, I didn’t have to spend 35 cents on a postcard, because I just created my own.

After I took my own photographs of the famous view, I stepped back and watched as others moved in to capture theirs.

People approached the railing on Westminster Bridge, each with bags in hand, ready to take their own shot. It was clear this was one of those “must-see” stops for everyone.

This was clearly one of those spots where almost everyone stopped.

A small group stood together at the railing on Westminster Bridge, looking out across the River Thames at the full length of the Palace of Westminster. It didn’t matter where people were from — this view had a way of pulling everyone in.

After leaving Westminster Bridge, I came across this classic London souvenir stall.

It was packed with keychains, postcards, small figurines, and other little trinkets — all the typical tourist souvenirs you’d expect to find near the major landmarks. A man was browsing through the items, likely looking for something small to bring home.

These kinds of stalls were everywhere in the busy tourist areas. They offered cheap, mass-produced mementos.

Being on a budget, I was satisfied that my pictures would be my souvenirs, and I kept on walking.

This felt like such a typical London moment back then.

A man was lying on one of the beautiful old sphinx benches, completely relaxed, reading his newspaper with his feet up. No phone, no rush, no one filming or staring. Just a guy taking his time with the paper in the middle of the city.

These kinds of quiet, unhurried public moments have become much rarer. Today, almost everyone would be looking at their phone instead. This photo captures a small slice of everyday London life in 1994 that has largely disappeared.

Using the map in my Let’s Go Europe guidebook, I made my way to Hyde Park - London’s largest park. As I wandered through it, I came across this older couple standing quietly together under the trees.

They weren’t in any rush. They just stood there, close and relaxed, enjoying the afternoon together. A small child ran across the grass behind them while pigeons wandered around their feet. It felt like a perfect, gentle moment — a simple, unhurried scene that stayed with me long after I had left.

After the noise and crowds earlier in the day, this peaceful little moment in Hyde Park was exactly what I needed.

This couple was gently feeding the pigeons. They seemed completely content in each other’s company, taking their time in the park on a lovely afternoon.

I saw this scene and loved it immediately.

A tired little boy in his stroller, a couple quietly embracing on the bench, the soft light filtering through the trees — it felt like a gentle, everyday London moment. I raised my camera, framed it up, and just as I pressed the shutter… someone walked right into the left side of the frame.

I knew instantly this wasn’t the shot I wanted.

But instead of walking away frustrated, I decided to wait. I loved what I saw too much to give up on it. So I stayed patient, watched, and started working the scene — waiting for the right moment, the right composition, the clean frame I had in my mind.

This photo became the first of four as I tried to capture what I was really seeing.

I waited.

This frame felt cleaner than the first one — the person had walked on. The sleeping boy, the quiet couple on the bench, the soft light through the trees… it was getting closer to what I was seeing in my mind.

But then I noticed the tree trunk.

It was cutting right through the middle of the scene, visually splitting the child from the couple. It broke the connection I wanted the viewer to feel between them.

I remember thinking, “This is better… but it’s still not it.”

I twisted the zoom ring on my 100-300mm lens from all the way out at 300mm to somewhere around 200mm. The wider view felt better — I could see more of the leaves scattered on the ground.

But I missed the focus.

At fifty yards away, handheld, with that long lens fully extended, the family came out soft and blurry. I knew it the second I pressed the shutter.

I wasn’t mad at myself though. I was standing a long way back, no tripod, just me and that big lens trying to hold steady. Sometimes the picture doesn’t come together, even when you’re doing everything you can.

This was the third of four frames as I kept working the scene, trying to get it right.

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After three attempts, I took a deep breath, let the camera hang around my neck by its strap, shook out my arms and hands, and moved a few feet to my left.

The new angle opened everything up. The tree trunk that had been cutting through the middle of the frame disappeared, replaced by the soft water of the lake. She leaned her head gently into his shoulder. The baby wiggled in the stroller. I felt the energy shift in that exact moment and knew this was it.

I pressed the shutter, confident I had finally captured what I had been chasing.

Here it is, or as they say in French, “Voila!”

This image has become one of the most beloved photographs from my entire 100 days in Europe.

It was completely unplanned and unscripted. Unlike the postcard view of Big Ben I had taken just minutes earlier — a scene that hasn’t changed in a hundred years — this moment existed for only a few seconds. It required me to notice it, work through it, and be ready when the magic moment arrived.

I still get tears in my eyes and a feeling of pride in my heart every time I look at it. A pure, peaceful, happy moment that I was blessed to witness and preserve on film.

I knew exactly what these two were up to the moment I saw them.

The cricket bat slung over the shoulder, the casual walk across the grass — it all came rushing back from my year as an exchange student in Australia. I had learned about this quirky game that no one in America knew anything about, and for one quick second I thought about walking over and asking if I could join them.

Then I remembered.

Cricket isn’t a quick game. A proper match can stretch on for hours… or even days. I only had a few hours left in London before I needed to catch my train, so I smiled to myself, raised the camera instead, and let them walk on.

I loved seeing this little slice of everyday London life — two friends heading out for a game on a sunny afternoon in Hyde Park. I took the picture, lowered the camera, and kept moving.

As I was heading out of the area, I turned around for one final view of Buckingham Palace.

Framed by the ornate iron gates, it looked even more impressive than when I had accidentally stumbled upon it a few hours earlier. The palace stood there — grand, solid, and permanent — while I was just a backpacker passing through for a single day.

I saw this man and stopped for a moment.

He was completely spent — head heavy, shoulders slumped, arms folded across his chest as if holding himself together. The newspaper beside him fluttered in the breeze , unneeded. He had found this bench and surrendered to it.

In that moment, I felt a connection.

I was just as exhausted. My legs ached from walking for hours. My mind was tired from navigating crowds, chasing light, and being deliberate with every frame I photographed. I had pushed hard all day to create something meaningful, and now I was done.

All I wanted was a quiet place to close my eyes.

I took this picture, lowered my camera, and kept walking toward the station. I still had an overnight ferry to catch to France, and the thought of a bunk and a few hours of sleep suddenly felt like the greatest luxury in the world.

This was my last photograph in London, and even today, it feels like a perfect close to this day.

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