London in December and other absurd notions

Isis no more

Isis or Oasis? This ship of fools we’re on has no permanent mooring.

Fuller, Smith & Turner

We glide through the city in an integument of advertising, subsumed by consumerism.


The grey winter skies are a burden everyone must bear, but at least they are blank of message.


One remains receptive to that blankness at one’s own risk.

Luisa at the Tate

Only in museums do we celebrate what doesn’t fit,

canal-side graffiti

though street art offers a more direct challenge to the lies of the carnival barkers.

Where 2 Now

Let us acknowledge at least the idea of escape—that there can be some oasis,

the view out back, NW London

that the bourgeois dream of a walled garden dissolves after dark into the dominion of wild foxes.

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