the morning sky looks as if it's been bleached, whitening towards the horizon, wisps and feathers of white cloud, floating south. but it feels a little cooler, enough to go hide in the shelter of the hills for an hour or two. but rivulets of sweat form on the walk to the bike. the hills packed, static queues spilling from the paths around the big rocks, the lower path closed for the next couple of months, a bottleneck of figures throwing shapes as they clamber into lenses.

minute hands moving towards the maximum, the sky a light blanket of cloud blowing down from the north east, hazing the sun, catching brief rainbows within their fabric. the streets are littered with bodies, necks craned towards the sun, pointing cameras and periscopes, pinholes and plastic bags, parents attempting to transmit their excitement to their children.

you can kind of see it, a darker splodge rising, crawling across the disc, light changing, growing heavier, thicker, autumn twilight misplaced upon the solstice; shadows seem to dim, their edges wavering as imagination drops the temperature down by a degree or two, while the camera offers a crescent sun surrounded by a series of starbursts before the images are processed. and then it's over, the sun expanding once again, light flowing through the streets, groups dispersing, the day moving on.