Hilary talks about watching watching a neighbourhood start the day in a post first shared on Facebook:
There’s something quite lovely about the early morning movement.
The sky’s vignette changes from indigo to orange, silhouetting mountains, buildings and trees as the day breaks. Street lights flicker off and the roads are washed in an orange glow. It’s still cool; the air is not yet choked with exhaust fumes and hooters.
Taxis jostle against cars caught behind buses waiting to pass by cyclists who are darting ahead of pedestrians and between everyone else.
Traders clank the scaffolding for canopies that will later shield them from the beating sun. Their helpers drag trollies, laden with crisps and batteries and handbags and other stuff, across near-deserted side streets. Shop owners throw up clattering roller shutters and jangle keys in multiple locks to their stores. The city will soon be open for business.
The buses and taxis disgorge passengers who cluster first, but then dissolve into the offices, shops and malls nearby. There’s an insistency in the way they walk, as if they’re hurrying to get the day over with before coming back to do it all again tomorrow.