Berlin is waking up. In every house and apartment bells are ringing, chiming, clanging. The sleepy population rises from their beds; big comfy doubles with another human close beside (some loved, others not so much, if at all), single beds, bunk beds, sofa beds, mattresses on the floor, piles of rags in unusual corners. TheContinue reading “Hufeisensiedlung, Berlin”
Tag Archives: writing
Bed 22
The nurse places her hand gently and firmly on the patient’s back. She pushes to help him stand up from his sitting position on the hospital bed. As she does so she holds his forearm to provide more support. He manages to rise half way and then drops back onto the bed. “Let’s try again”,Continue reading “Bed 22”
Edinburgh; inner life within the city
The bus pulls into Princess Street. I consider how it is that the blue of the sky that I noticed the day before had made its presence felt in my dreams. A blue silk and movement and something so close and yet; a phantom, not real, to try and touch, an impossibility. In the street.Continue reading “Edinburgh; inner life within the city”
The Merchant’s House
It is an occasion to catch up with oneself, to determine the location of here and now, the recent past; the future is always a shadowy blur. One wishes for magic, illusion, enigma, the mystery of light and shade in both harmony and tension draped over the stone and flint of a medieval church. DigitalContinue reading “The Merchant’s House”
Autonomous Networks
Starting points…where to start? It seems a flood, of hate and bile and anger and screwed up raging faces. Influencers, social media companies, the right wing press, the shock troops of the new right, lies and dis-formation. Anything goes. Pointing fingers, provocative behaviour, murder-speech, writing lies and far right propaganda. A newspaper claims a ‘pro-Palestine’Continue reading “Autonomous Networks”
Fragment of a Radical Walk
I have to accept that a write up of a Radical Walk will never be along the lines of, “meet outside the Bishopsgate Institute, turn left into Artillery Row, proceed in a southerly direction to Middlesex Street, note the estate on the corner, here is the heart of the East End; it’s quite some distanceContinue reading “Fragment of a Radical Walk”
Walking to France
The alarm is set but I wake up an hour before it rings. This gives more time for breakfast, double-checking that passport, tickets, euros, notebooks, pens, headphones, cameras are all in place. I might as well leave early rather than idle around at home. It will be interesting to see the port wake up; notContinue reading “Walking to France”
Commodity Fetishism 