There’s a rhythm to the Cam you can’t hear from the shore.
Only when you’re drifting low, eye-level with the water, it starts to speak.
I painted this just past Jesus Green, floating towards the bridge.
The city was behind me.
Ahead: light breaking on the current, and three perfect arches holding it all together.
This is Cambridge in its purest form—still, sharp, and impossible to pin down.
