Just these nostalgic photographs and the memory of the river running like liquid silver beneath the bridge, the cool stone pressed against my calves, his hand on the small of my back, the sweet taste of Radler on sun-chapped lips.
Archives for August 2015
Truly it may be said that the outside of a mountain is good for the inside of a man. – George Wherry, Alpine Notes and the Climbing Foot, 1896 Photos on 35mm film, Pentax ME Super in Rainier National Park, WA.
One of those weeks when a bad mood crests and swells, blooms black like a bruise. One of those weeks where life in this city seems a pointless endeavour, sharp elbows slicing ribs on the clammy underground and why do I bother with this expensive, cruel town? On weeks like this it helps to remember one’s […]
Enough seen….Enough had….Enough… —Arthur Rimbaud No. It will never be enough. Never enough wind clamoring in the trees, sun and shadow handling each leaf, never enough clang of my neighbor hammering, the iron nails, relenting wood, sound waves lapping over roofs, […]
Soon she will be no more than a passing thought, a pang, a timpani of wind in the chimes, bent spoons hung from the eaves on a first night in a new house on a street where no dog sings, no cat visits a neighbor cat in the middle of the street, winding and rubbing […]
My favourite places in London are almost without exception those that do not feel at home in the city at all. One such place, finally discovered after months of longing, is Hampstead Heath’s Hill Garden and Pergola on the western edge of the park. I’d been dreaming up this afternoon for a while after seeing a photograph of the pergola […]