I dance the tarantella I am victim, alone in my joy rich clinging canopy damp growing earth, Tarran tarran ! Notes of the other hands on the chords my brain side – stepping my fingerprints scarred. O
Another layer of memory Bloomsbury is overlaid with decades of memories for me. As a child, we would take a detour through its quaint streets and green squares to read the blue plaques dedicated to the Bloomsbury Set, as my
The circus of enlightenment Roll up! Roll up! Join us for an era of excitement, enlightenment and inspiration! Something’s getting started here on the newly developed edges of London. Gents (and ladies – although most of that comes later) you’re
A Tomb Figure With Splash Glaze (Tang Dynasty 700-750), Shines A Light On Visitors To A Museum. Purloined. Frozen in time. Motionless. Yet, within me is more life than feels safe. I roar, rage in earthenware form. They stop;
HERE COMES THE SUN By Lauren McMenemy ________ Little darling. The absence of light is not darkness. It’s living numb, existing, waiting for hope that never comes. Is what we see really real? Or is it just perception? “We are
Gardens, Squares, Many Layers Strolling around, I happen upon Lockdown & Before (Ram Shergill). Images of an almost deserted Doughty Street, empty British Museum entrances/exits and ghostly Gower Street on a 2020 Bloomsbury Festival walk, slide and click in my
Memories of Writing In Residence And Other Things By Margaret Kenna It starts with the Cinnamon shop Which sounds like it should involve pastries But is actually all about memory It reminds me to ring my father Who can
Opening night at the Bloomsbury Festival: A Sense of Belonging A crowd stands watching a black and white projection on the Holy Cross Church in Cromer Street. Tucked around the back, caged in a garden, a neon tiger growls at