River houses float in light. Looking back along the reach from Chiswick to Barnes you’re thrown out of context & might be anywhere but London, any age but now. This makes you, for an instant, fully human. Whatever that might be. Imagine for a second being genuinely free, not having to participate except through flare & dazzle. You can see why romantic & ecstatic alike busy themselves around this moment of recognition. & why gnostics don’t trust it at all. Later I’m tempted to write a sonnet on Hammersmith Bridge, but S is impatient to get down from there. “It’s a bit Victorian for me, this whole architecture.”
I didn’t know I was in this promotion. Interesting cover. Have they decided to drop the definite article from the title ? Interesting decision. But I still hate the book. Whereas I love this more than I can say & want to have its babies.
Reading: Denis Johnson, Seek.