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Author Archives: Bobby Seal
The Flow of Time: Lockdown, Day 38
Time is the river on which the leaves of our thoughts are carried into oblivion. Doris Lessing – The Golden Notebook How do you sleep? How do you sleep at night? John Lennon For me, one of the biggest … Continue reading
The Flow of Time: Lockdown, Day 37
The crossing was over. They were arriving. The movement of the little steamer that had collected the passengers from the packet-boat drove the raw air against Miriam’s face. In her tired brain the grey river and the flat misty shores … Continue reading
The Flow of Time: Lockdown, Day 36
In a breath, the river that flows through our Sunday walks is sparkling in the summer sun, is ruffled by the winter wind, or thickened with drifting heaps of ice. Charles Dickens – David Copperfield Picture … Continue reading
The Flow of Time: Lockdown, Day 35
It was remarkable how the races that had gone to his making had each left its signature on the river bank; often over and over, as children on gates and walls scrawl the names of those amongst them who are … Continue reading
The Flow of Time: Lockdown, Day 34
In Liverpool, I beheld long China walls of masonry; vast piers of stone; and a succession of granite-rimmed docks, completely enclosed, and many of them communicating, which almost recalled to mind the great American chain of lakes: Ontario, Erie, St. … Continue reading
Posted in Home
Tagged Liverpool, lockdown, memory, river, time, Tracey Emin, William Blake
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The Flow of Time: Lockdown, Day 33
I was lucky, I am lucky. I came bursting out of the water and into the light with a great gasp, a loud heaving that you’d have thought people on the river bank would have been able to hear. There … Continue reading
The Flow of Time: Lockdown, Day 32
The fountains mingle with the river And the rivers with the ocean, The winds of heaven mix for ever With a sweet emotion; Nothing in the world is single; All things by a law divine In one spirit meet and … Continue reading
The Flow of Time: Lockdown, Day 31
The old river in its broad reach rested unruffled at the decline of day, after ages of good service done to the race that peopled its banks, spread out in the tranquil dignity of a water way leading to the … Continue reading
The Flow of Time: Lockdown, Day 30
The black stream is a ley-line whose energies have become stagnant through neglect, or negative through misuse. Aidan Andrew Dun – Vale Royal (Notes) Thirty days since the lockdown began: a whole month, and still no end in … Continue reading
The Flow of Time: Lockdown, Day 29
I re-read Alice Oswald’s poem, Hymn to Iris, yesterday. I first encountered it in her 2005 collection Woods etc. I recalled it as a poem of fatalistic despair. But reading it again this week, in these days dominated by an … Continue reading