Every time the train curves along the Foyle and slips into Derry~Londonderry, I feel the city lean toward me. Something about the light - silvered, lyrical - feels like it wants to pull you into the scene. No other city in Northern Ireland approaches you with such openness.

When I arrived at the North West Transport Hub, three Belfast School of Art students joined me. Their easels faced the vast windows framing the river like a living painting. The Peace Bridge arched across it, elegant as a brushstroke. 

Before I could begin sketching, a woman stepped off the train just to speak to me. 

“You’re the artist, aren’t you? You painted at Helen’s Bay - I was one of the swimmers.” 

She laughed. “Eight degrees that day!” 

It struck me how often Translink passengers cross paths again. The network isn’t just transport - it’s a community stitched by journeys

People approached me constantly stopping to chat, ask about the paintings, share about their journeys. Many of those journeys are planned in advance - routes checked, connections noted using the Journey Planner giving people confidence before they even step onto the platform. 

Two St. Columb’s pupils shyly asked what colours to use for water.

A young father explained he takes the Ulsterbus from Buncrana because “town parking is for saints, not mortals.” 

A nurse heading to Altnagelvin said the station felt “calmer than anywhere else today.”

A man carrying fishing gear described the best spots on the Foyle for sea trout. 

Later, painting outside, I watched Foyle Metro buses glide by, their red bodies slicing against the river’s soft light. Gulls swooped. Cormorants perched like punctuation marks. A heron stood so still I managed to paint it in real time - a rare miracle. 

Then an older woman approached slowly. 

“I lost my husband last year,” she said. “I still take the same bus we used to take. It feels like he’s beside me.” 

We stood in shared quiet - that special kind of silence that doesn’t feel empty. 

Teenagers gathered to watch. 

One said his granda insisted Derry had “the best light in the world.” 

I smiled. I had already written that sentence in my heart. 

It was particularly dull and overcast that day, but there are always colours to be found in the greys and greys to be found in the colours. 

Derry~Londonderry isn’t a backdrop. 

It steps forward, makes eye contact, tells you its story. 

And some passengers even step off trains or Goldliners just to tell you theirs. 

This city doesn’t welcome you. 

It meets you.