if i had an endless pot of money and my choice of neighborhood, i might very well pick rotherhithe. something with exposed beams that overlooks the thames.
there is something mysterious about the old wharves and faded paint on the bricks. something that goes back centuries, to a time of exploration and discovery and slavery and shame. a time when pineapples were seen for the first time, the squawks of tropical birds echoed through the fog on ships coming up the thames estuary, and subdued lions and bears were brought to jamrach's emporium. rusted pulleys droop empty and useless, beams that might have once extended to docks or ships now hang in the air, vulnerable and shiny with a recent coat of paint.
imagine the river hundreds of years ago. the heartbeat of the city, the country. a lifeline of ships, goods, food and artifacts from abroad. the starting point of so many voyages and explorations. now it is neatly banked by high walls. boats full of tourists zip up and down, from westminster to london bridge.
still, i bet there are hundreds of stories still waiting to be discovered under those waters.
