Between the first tram and the first coffee, the city belongs to gulls, fishmongers and one very determined bakery. Seven pictures from a single morning.
Photographs by Inês Moreira · Words by Marta Quill · Tap any picture to see it larger
106:04The harbour at low tide. The first ferry is still a rumour. The cranes have been up for an hour.
206:31The 6:30 on Harbour Bridge. One minute late, which by local standards counts as early.306:40Lamp post, occupied. The gulls own the Old Town lamp posts. The council rents them back by the hour.
At six the city sounds like a kettle: the tram on the bridge, the gulls arguing about lamp posts, somebody's radio on the fish quay. By eight it sounds like everywhere else.
406:55Fish market, before the haggling. Sixteen crates, fifteen kinds of fish and one regular who comes for the atmosphere. Look closely.
507:10The foghorn, warming up. Nobody is sure who owns it. Everybody is sure when it goes off.605:48Old Town, before the alarm clocks. Taken earlier, on the way in. The bakery light is always the first one on.
707:30The bench that moved forty centimetres. Back in its old spot, for now. The measuring tape is ours.808:00The mayor opens the new pier. If you're reading this caption next to an empty frame, the photo didn't make it. The page still works.
1 / 7 · 06:04The harbour at low tide. The first ferry is still a rumour. The cranes have been up for an hour.2 / 7 · 06:31The 6:30 on Harbour Bridge. One minute late, which by local standards counts as early.3 / 7 · 06:40Lamp post, occupied. The gulls own the Old Town lamp posts. The council rents them back by the hour.4 / 7 · 06:55Fish market, before the haggling. Sixteen crates, fifteen kinds of fish and one regular who comes for the atmosphere. Look closely.5 / 7 · 07:10The foghorn, warming up. Nobody is sure who owns it. Everybody is sure when it goes off.6 / 7 · 05:48Old Town, before the alarm clocks. Taken earlier, on the way in. The bakery light is always the first one on.7 / 7 · 07:30The bench that moved forty centimetres. Back in its old spot, for now. The measuring tape is ours.