Mustard Maple Syrup at 3 a.m.
Friday 13/Saturday 14 March 2020
Step off the train, stride beneath crystal roofs.
Liverpool Street: 7.09 a.m.
Grab a moment in the ‘third place’: not there, nor there. Status neutral.
The over-choice – Flat White? Cappuccino? Americano?
Mocha Cortado? Gingerbread? Caramel? Cinnamon?
Your Club Card? A wrap?
Broadgate: creeping corporatisation – public space
privatisation. Who knows who owns what?
Seamless work/recreation proximity: health clubs,
champagne bars, clocks in global time zones.
the transient temperature, sounds, smells. ‘I tap,
my index finger alongside my white cane, with a slight stomping
of my feet, snapping my fingers; with my mouth I make
a clicking noise. An acoustic flashlight.’
And there’s art: The Fulcrum – five trapezoidal, steel plates,
fifty-five feet high. Engage through form, material and sight.
You can hide inside.
Broadgate Venus – five tons, patinated curves of bronze.
Counterpoint to skinny fit.
Cascade: a water feature, Zen inspired, natural oasis.
Circles of peacefulness; eternity.
Rollerblades, skateboards, taxis, buses, bikes, scooters, vans, trucks.
A Roman road: the A10. Bishopsgate, Shoreditch High Street…to King’s Lynn.
Cheesegrater, Gherkin, Tower 42, Scalpel, Walkie-Talkie,
is the pavement’s edge.’ The supertalls, their iconic status?
‘Their dizzy heights?’ Frank shrugs. ‘They pass me by.’
110, twenty-four seven, fortieth floor: ‘The right overall look’
required for the top, in forty secs. at five m.p.s. via scenic lifts.
Skyline: one Biodynamic Sour; one Reformed Pornstar;
Crispy Leg Confit; Mustard Maple Syrup at 3 a.m.
texture, the echoes. I hear reflections of sounds from the walls.’
