Rainy Night Walk from London Waterloo to Soho
From Waterloo Bridge to Chinatown and Soho, the night revealed quiet corners, reflections, and simple shapes. Steamed-up windows became the evening’s highlight, catching glimpses of stories in the city’s glow
There are some evenings where London doesn’t feel like a city so much as a film set, and this was one of them.
I started at London Waterloo, the rain already settling in properly, the kind that soaks through slowly and turns the pavements into proper mirrors. Walking along Southbank, everything felt softened, the Thames almost dissolving into the low cloud. By the time I crossed Waterloo Bridge, the city skyline was barely holding itself together, buildings fading into mist.
I wasn’t chasing landmarks. The rain pulled me toward quieter details — reflections, negative space, lone figures caught between light sources. The whole walk became about liminal corners and simple shapes, about letting the atmosphere do most of the work.
Chinatown was glowing when I reached it, reds and golds diffused through drizzle and steam. Then on to Soho, where the lights felt warmer, more intimate. Somewhere along the way, I realised my favourite subject of the night wasn’t the skyline or the streets at all, but steamed-up windows — condensation catching light, hiding and revealing fragments of stories inside.
It was a night for abstractions, for softness, for letting London blur a little around the edges.
