
Shadow and Reflection



We went in to the Tate Britain in London, to see the Lee Miller show. On the block leading up to the Tate, walking from Victoria, we saw this long row of pollarded trees.



What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,
And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,
And the dry stone no sound of water….
The Waste Land, T S Eliot


Click any of the images below to see them enlarged.









In late August we took a walk along a footpath that starts at the Northwest corner of the University car park.

After the Serpentine Galleries we walked back through Hyde Park to the Lancaster Gate tube station, not too far from where I lived in Bayswater in the ’80s. We were stunned to see a lot of parakeets fluttering around until one of our Indian classmates explained to us that they had arrived here some years ago, escaping the homes of Indians in England who had brought them from someplace in India where they’re common.

