She carefully totters towards an old gypsy-style caravan nestled amid the shadows to the north of the power station’s iconic chimneys and flashes a quick smile. She shouts something out, but it disappears in the howling gale.
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Lily the pink
Lily Cole cuts an incongruous figure as she picks her way across the rubble-strewn wasteland that skirts London’s crumbling Battersea Power Station. Her tall, elegant form is wrapped in a billowing cloak that flaps incessantly in the wind, threatening to lift her into the air.
