London
London
Mostly cloudy skies with a high near seventy degrees while C. and I sat in the National Gallery, awaiting the results of our mandatory Covid tests so we could fly home.
Bath
As we pulled out of Paddington Station, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the announcements on the Great Western Railway.
Somnambulist
One of those fine afternoons when you wander into a dusty bookstore in an unfamiliar city.
Violent Light
London. After six weeks here, I still find myself stopping in the street, stunned by how low the clouds hang on this island.
Black Walls
We spent a week shivering in a damp atrium with rain dripping down the sides. We called it the Tarkovsky Box.
Stone
You can’t climb on Stonehenge anymore, but you can walk around it under the eye of a tour guide and two uniformed guards.
Believe
London. Sunset: 6:11pm. It was nice to believe in the future for a little while.
Evensong
Yesterday I saw the birthplace of William Blake, now a strip of concrete between an Indian restaurant and an expensive handbag store.
Loops
London. The usual clouds, the usual forty-something degrees, and there’s a photograph of my mom on the massive screen behind us.
Teeth
London. A sunny Wednesday morning with highs in the 50s, the sun goes down at 5:30pm, and I’m recovering from an exhibition of Francis Bacon’s animal paintings.
Gaps and Threads
London. Another day of clouds and drizzle, and somewhere off to the left, I can hear Georges Perec: “Question your teaspoons.”
Midnight in London
Few things feel as eternal as a lone bus stop in the middle of the night.