Where seven streets meet one sundial, the city converges and rests. Around the sundial column, four men sit with phones in hand — heads down, scrolling for distraction, oblivious to everything happening around them. They are the new world: arriving at one of London's great observation points and missing it entirely. A black cab idles, a young mother leads her son toward the center, and this junction holds the truth of a city built around its meeting places — gather first, then go. The taxi pulls off, the boy points at the column, and Seven Dials keeps doing what it was built to do, even when only a boy thinks to look up.