Ices, Bexhill

This old ice cream kiosk on the deserted seafront promenade at Bexhill-on-Sea and the impersonal space around it called to mind the sort of after-hours melancholy of an Edward Hopper painting. I pedalled down there at 4am this morning and making use of the rich blue pre-dawn twilight, and the isolating taillight on my bicycle, with its suggestion of solitude and retreat, made a Hopperesque image of my own.