Softly the evening came. The sun from the western horizon
Like a magician extended his golden wand o’er the landscape;
Twinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest
Seemed all on fire at the touch, and melted and mingled together.
[Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Evangeline]
A lost sock hovers on the edge at my gym. A metaphor for the precariousness and unpredictability of modern life.
Or maybe it’s just a lost sock.
An unexpected splash of colour round the corner from my house.
Echoes of the Great Court of the British Museum, at the Grand Arcade in central Cambridge.
A pencil drawing of Charles Dickens.