Colour is what you notice first, then you begin to appreciate the vastness of the building. In Mosley street, people march past purposefully. Above their heads, the power lines for the trams are suspended. Blown ink tendrils, exploding like sparks, bring life to the static cables.
In the road, a lady wearing a pink coat walks along the tram lines. She’s oblivious to any potential danger. Maybe you look around fearfully, but she’s safe, for now. There’s no sign of a tram!