I think of such cities as storybook places for some odd reason. I live in a very flat, rather barren part of the world so I long for a hill from which to look out on a town or a prairie even. Somehow, even the “air” in this panorama seems fresh and clean and hopeful. I wonder what is the color (like hanging clothes on a line, at the forefront? And the orange things on top of the buildings?
I do too, probably because there are so many stories around every corner of those streets. Those colourful panels are graffiti George! Haven’t a clue what those orange things on top of the roofs are 🙂
I think of such cities as storybook places for some odd reason. I live in a very flat, rather barren part of the world so I long for a hill from which to look out on a town or a prairie even. Somehow, even the “air” in this panorama seems fresh and clean and hopeful. I wonder what is the color (like hanging clothes on a line, at the forefront? And the orange things on top of the buildings?
I do too, probably because there are so many stories around every corner of those streets. Those colourful panels are graffiti George! Haven’t a clue what those orange things on top of the roofs are 🙂