I passed through Waverley Station car park on Saturday and glanced a grand view above me, up to the heavens on top of the old Scotsman building. I vowed to come back and managed to within the week: it’s a quiet, open spot – seldom used – in the middle of town. An audience of pigeons would occasionally clap their way off a nearby platform as intercity passengers arrived readying themselves for travel to York, Inverness or London. A boy starts to cry somewhere above and out of sight and a solitary red balloon drifts up into the distance.
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