Night Patrols and the Bridge over the Clyde
Night Patrols and the Bridge over the Clyde
There’s a certain stillness that comes over the city at night. Most people don’t see it—by the time the streets quiet down, they’re home, warm, maybe drifting into sleep. But on patrol, you see the city differently. You hear it breathe.
I always find myself pulled toward the Clyde. The river has its own kind of voice, steady and low, carrying the reflections of lamps and passing headlights. There’s comfort in it. The bridge over the Clyde feels like an old companion on those nights. Solid. Steadfast. Watching as the city changes, but never losing its place.
There’s a kind of humility to walking the city when everyone else is asleep. You’re not part of the noise or the rush. You’re just there, keeping watch, noticing things others might never stop to see. That bridge, those reflections on the Clyde—they’ve kept me company more times than I can count.
Maybe that’s why this picture means so much. It’s not just a view—it’s a memory. A reminder of nights when the city felt like it belonged only to me, the river, and the bridge.
Available to buy with frame - 2005 by Brian Anderson