A nocturne maybe, tinkling in the distance, Or clinking glasses as the bistros fill. Perhaps you looked out over this same view Of the Vieux-Port, with George at your shoulder.
I stroll along the Seine towards the hotel, way lit by gibbous moon cross hatched by vapour trails...
Since Thomas Blood was pardoned by the king for trying to make off with the Crown Jewels, it seems a small imposture to act tourist and cross the Liberties in…
Having heard the tales of Huguenots and Dumas’ fictional Count imprisoned there, we sail from Vieux-Port to Château d’If, that brittle limestone white against the blue.
Where Eden, Caldew and smooth Petteril meet, sits England’s northmost city: Cumbrian Carlisle. The Scottish border’s close; while within reach, The Solway Firth, the Pennines and the Lakes. A border…
The democratising and destructive nature of 12-tone music, whereby the selected tone row is both liberating and tyrannical, and its relationship to architecture, literature, and the visual arts, has long fascinated me. And, conceptually speaking, the Gesamtkunstwerk that is the Christian cathedral and its sonorous rites.
One could imagine a Piranesi of the page constructing sonnets like carceri to shore against their ruins – and ours.
On rue de Verneuil in Paris’s elegant 7th arrondissement, two buildings stand roughly opposite each other. At number 5 bis is the home in which Serge Gainsbourg lived out his…