The Temple by the Sea
I’m getting off to get lost in the air,At the edge of the world where the light is bending… – … Continue reading The Temple by the Sea
Tag: Adventure
On the Buses
But the journey. The journey is still the same. The sense of moving through a landscape that is still, in some deep way, unfamiliar to me. The small thrill of stepping onto a bus and trusting it to take me somewhere I have never been; or back to a place I know well. That trust is easier now. The bus will not break down. The driver will not lose control. The windows will not fall out. It is safer. It is cleaner. It is, in almost every way, better. Continue reading On the Buses
The Girl in the Doorway
Later, I see a plaque. Carved stone, old, official. Two characters: “Civilisation endures.” I do not know what to do with these two things: the girl, the plaque. But they belong together. They must. Continue reading The Girl in the Doorway
High Tide on Luoyang Qiao
The tide is coming in. It does not rush. It never rushes. But it is relentless; a slow, patient rising … Continue reading High Tide on Luoyang Qiao
WHERE THE PRAIRIES MEET THE MOUNTAINS
At Waterton Lakes National Park–a landscape of perpendicular mountains and deep, glacial lakes on the eastern edge of the Canadian … Continue reading WHERE THE PRAIRIES MEET THE MOUNTAINS
Heat and Dust
On the overpasses, cars crawl through the mirage, each one a sealed bubble of air-conditioned defiance. But the city doesn’t care. The heat is indifferent, eternal. It radiates from the concrete, rises in waves from the road, presses down from above: a three-dimensional sauna of light and dust. Somewhere behind all that sun-glare, the desert waits, unchanged and unimpressed. Continue reading Heat and Dust
Sim City
The Burj Khalifa points into the sky like a Qibla compass, its needle turned upwards towards Allah (Subḥānahu wa taʿālā). … Continue reading Sim City
The Liberty Timbers
But it’s not one that a Jack Tar would recognise. Instead of oakham, gunpowder smoke, tobacco and rum, I can smell oak polish, high-end perfume, old wood, and new money. It’s a curious blend, like Chanel No.5 dabbed behind the ears of Admiral Nelson. Continue reading The Liberty Timbers
The Tower of Gaucín
Climbing through the old gate, the heat is instant and enveloping. The stones radiate the morning’s stored warmth; lizards dart along the ramparts. I follow the rough path upward to the bell tower, where a single bronze bell hangs under a weathered brick arch. Continue reading The Tower of Gaucín
Return to the Wylye Valley
Our road to Corton had begun in London, but not in the present day. It stretched back to 1760, when my ancestor, Matthew Blakiston, served as Lord Mayor of London. Continue reading Return to the Wylye Valley
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