Uncategorized

The diamantine City of London reflected down the long Thames; London’s familiar anonymity washed over me. I walked along Millenium Bridge, BFI to my left. All those lit rooms – all those lives – casting stones of light across the water made me feel hidden in plain sight. I can see them in spacious offices…

Stepping out in a tight navy suit, Charles Owen’s muscular figure preluded a tenacious performance at Cambridge’s Kettle’s Yard. He is ruddy and compact, softly spoken in slick introductions across the second half, while Schubert’s Impromptu in C Minor and Wanderer Fantasie spoke for themselves with hardly a pause in between. I sat on the…

Over the last month, I was moved by a chain of disparate works: Alberto Moravia’s Contempt (1954); Isaac Bashevis Singer’s Shosha (1974); selected journalism of Gabriel Garcia Marquez and his One Hundred Years of Solitude (1967); and Emily Ogden’s On Not Knowing (2022). Reflections commenced when, on commutes hemming East London’s Windrush Line to a…