At 2:30 in the morning, in most cities around the world, this time is called midnight. But in London, it's not just midnight; it's the beginning of a new day.
While Moscow falls silent, while St. Petersburg gently slips into the Baltic Sea's dreams, while doctoral students in Gottingen toil through the night for tomorrow's thesis defense, the Covent Garden Market in central London is already bustling with activity.
Rows of horse-drawn carriages, carts, and fruit and vegetable vendors' pushcarts gather on the surrounding streets, the air thick with the scent of coal, earth, moist vegetable leaves, and early apples, mixed with a trace of rising human chatter.
Lights flicker in the upper windows of the taverns, not as a sign of city dwellers preparing for rest or the pubs about to close, but as a signal that the proprietor is getting ready to open for business.
A new day is about to arrive, and the image of thoroughfares filled with vehicles will appear again in just an hour.
