Celebration

 

 

Crowds watching the Duke of Wellington's funeral procession on 18 November 1852 - no-one now on top of St Mary's (Illustrated London News 27 November 1852, 472)

On 29 April 1802, crowds assembled to watch a grand procession, celebrating the proclamation of peace between Great Britain and France; as the report published in The European Magazine 41 (January - June 1802), 410, reveals, not all of them lived to tell the tale: Read more »

 ...Catching Up

 

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The Viennese Tourist Board brought 'Vienna From a Different Angle' to a vertical wall in Trafalgar Square, viewed as the tallest temporary erection ever inside the square at 21 meters. UK. 25th October 2011 

The Viennese Tourist Board brought 'Vienna from a Different Angle' to some vertical wall in Trafalgar Square, considered to be the tallest temporary erection in the square at 21 metres.

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9/8-9, VøAA There was a corpse in the dream I had some time ago. For some reason, I recall it time and again. It was lying on the railroad. It felt the cold of the metal underneath. How do I know? These days, one doesn’t ask such questions? One may instead interrogate this way: Is the fact that the cold was felt relevant for the description of the woods surrounding the railroad? Or: Does the sensation of the cold entail an alteration of the original conceptualization of the progression of events? Consequently: Does that amount to sequencing of events that constitute a plot?

When I type, I wish I could type faster. When I write in ink, I wish my hand was light. When I read, I wish I could have two pairs of eyes. When I talk, I wish I could hear the echo of my words in somebody else’s ear. Mind. When I remember the days of naivety, I wish I could celebrate the time when I was being taught how to read and write. When I sleep, I wish I could remember how it felt to learn to walk. When I sometimes make a swerve to an alley, just off the Strand, I think there has never been anything I wanted to see more.

The street of the definite article

The strand.

The one two the iambic chaos

The rush through it, on it and under it

The busy busy

The buses the bridges the protests

The lawyers the law courts the justice,

The cafes, the authors

The Dickens, the Thackery the Makepeace

The temple inn

The no children

The Strand school for civil service gone,

The whirling doors on the King’s building

The Students, the must just read hard enough

The elect alumni, on the plate glass

The bus Read more »

Walking into Lincolns Inn Field I see tall tulips yellow and red

Looking like little soldiers on parade standing to attention

In a flower bed Read more »