Vehicular Viewing

I love the view from bridges. This artery actually runs through HIT, and the view further along in the opposite direction is a mish-mash of underpasses, bridges and fencing for pedestrians.

There's something about the unnaturalness of the experience - standing on a thin walkway, dozens of feet above tons of steel and plastic, hurtling along at speeds faster than any living thing.

The view here stretches out to forever, with buildings gradually ghosting away into nothingness. Here and there, neon billboards and signage pierce the haze of a city that still burns coal for heating, like Charles Dickens meets Blade Runner.

The experience is brought alive by the crazy traffic - cyclists weaving between trucks, cars pulling out willy-nilly, and the constant honk-honking symphony of blithely terrible drivers. Chaos contained by a system of barely observed rules, a few dotted lines, and a concrete central reservation barely a foot high.

Shabby Jetta taxis and bikes that are more rust than bicycle intermingle with shiny coaches and trucks laden with what I'm going to go ahead and assume are cheap plastic goods, and the whole scene is framed by a hotch-potch of buildings on either side. Restaurants, shops, schools and homes, some busy, some deserted, and every place has a story, a history, a character.