Harmesdon Rise

He walked all night from wayward Dartford and, seeing the lights of the tower of Margate, headed south and pitched his tent for two.

A new friend, the elephant in the room.

For those who lie awake and those who dance in darkness.

At a place when there is nowhere left to go.

A petition of love.

A study of the excesses of partial submission in a Sophistic society (or the light they forgot to find).

A familiar sound just out of hearing that remember deep currents to whales and pond-skaters alike.

The catapulted founding stone sped quickly and gracefully through time but now sits concrete, immovable.

Finding inspiration between the lines and the time to enjoy a flurry of exploration on a universal theme.

2 Comments