There is mystery in a Victorian canal, a vein into the centre of the city, a lifeline of murky water, still, cold and unforgiving. It is the domain of rats, slimy and yellow toothed, filthy predators, Satan’s minions. As night falls and Edinburgh huddles inwards, in high ceilinged tenement flats, the canal returns to its silent world, a private world, of shadow and of lethal mulch. Occasionally a light goes on in one of the flats, a high rectangle of orange, a fleeting vision of humanity, a beacon. I return once more to my solitary walk, a quick glance over my shoulder, a frisson of danger.
This artwork is for sale via my Artfinder site.