A Handful of Snow

The whole of London is covered in mist and fog. This morning it felt as if the train was floating on some ghostly sea, I could hardly see more than half a metre from the carriage window and surfaces seemed to be steaming in the frosty air. I watched a friend's breath creating small, white zephyrs that seemed to melt on the air. Walking to work, the scenery seemed to emerge from the mist itself, giving one the strangest sensation that the world was unfolding as if in a dream.

I took some of my writing students for a walk through the winter trees and it began to snow for a few minutes. Frozen red-yellow leaves crunched under our wellies - a very satisfying sound ^^ One of the girls found a spider frozen beneath a layer of ice, in a birdbath, which was quite eerie. It reminded my of those elaborate paper weights made from glass; where a smudge of colour seems immortalised. The snow was a little disappointing, but still beautiful. It was only enough to scatter a few flakes on our hair and turn the girl's cheeks pink, but we enjoyed it all the same and the girls (although seventeen) squealed with delight, like children.

Morning from the Platform

I love those moments when the sun catches the trails of jets across the sky.

The Morning Getting Dressed

The only good thing about having to wake up early for the train, is that I get to see the day while she's still getting dressed. This was taken at about six in the morning or so, near Balham Station.

Play of Light

I took this on the train.  An ugly scrawl made beautiful by the play of light upon the window.

Trees Stripped by Winter

I took this picture last week at about five in the afternoon. The colour of the sky and the sadness of the trees made me imagine scenes befitting a Bronte novel. This image is a melancholy one. This time of the evening, when it gets dark so early is quite strange. There's a sense of something looming, waiting or watching.

Hot Chocolate, Shiny Stars & Richmond Park

On Saturday I was reminded of some of the people that make life wonderful. It's a sad fact of human nature that we seem to take those closest to us for granted. Anyway, it was a glorious winter's evening on Saturday and the air was crisp and bracing. I sauntered around Camden, gazing at the Nepalese hats and multicoloured scarves covetously. I spent a comfortable half-hour digging through vintage comics at Mega City, scrounging for Betty Paige postcards and paging through all the latest graphic novels. After a failed attempt to see the Lord Mayor's fireworks from Primrose Hill, I sat down on a park bench with some of my closest friends, and drank large mugs of Starbucks hot chocolate ( which we had laced with large dollops of Whiskey). It was at this point that I realised my pockets were filled with confetti in the shape of shiny stars that I had once used for a series of thank you letters. They were tumbling from a small hole in my left pocket, but for a brief moment, while my whiskey-addled brain tried to make sense of the event, there was a kind of magic about the evening. It was then off to a really good pub, where I had some of the best fish and chips I've ever eaten and a glass of 'OK' red wine.

The next day involved a fairly early wake up call (for a Sunday ^^) and then a slog to Richmond Park with my fold up bicycle. This truly was the highlight of my weekend, as much as I complained along the actual cycling bit. Richmond Park is beautiful - especially at this time of the year. One of my companions, who has a talent for creating culinary delights, packed some fantastic sandwiches and good cheese, which we ate balancing on rather wobbly benches. We were lucky enough to see both Red and Fallow deer - the stags are especially majestic. Then it was off to The Swan, to sip cider and munch crisps infront of a blazing fire. When the weather is permitting, London is one of the most beautiful cities I know. I was going to take pictures...but plan to go back next Sunday to do this, my words cannot possibly suffice.

A Taste of FOUND

I found this note on the FOUND magazine site.  I think it's sweet since my first boyfriend wrote me a similar letter.  We were just kids, but he took the whole thing so seriously, I let him hold my hand. 

Lost & Found Beauty

Imagine you're walking down the street. Perhaps you're engaged in your usual routine...or perhaps you're just trying to survive the daily commute to work or school. All of a sudden, something catches your eye. Maybe it's a post-it-note stuck to something, a scrap of paper attached to the gum underneath your shoe. Maybe it's someone's half finished crossword with every word misspelt, or maybe it's just a piece of a photograph or shopping list. Whatever it is, whatever form it takes, you're given a glimpse into someone else's world for just a moment. Something captures your imagination and you find yourself wondering: who wrote this and why?

I think this website is amazing: http://www.foundmagazine.com/index.php?fuseaction=finds.home . It's just random scraps of paper, photographs, postcards or shopping lists, found by people that seem to arouse one's interest...especially since some of them are so damn mysterious. Some of them, however, seem universal; we could have written the note ourselves. Perhaps it reminds us of something we would have written as a child or when we were once in love. Whatever the case, I find this site a worthy link to add to this blog. My reasoning is as follows:

Firstly, I've always liked Fortune Cookies, although I never liked reading Horoscopes. Secondly, I know how beautiful or poignant or just plain unnerving even a small piece of a story can be...even if it's just a single line or a poem like this famous one by Ezra Pound:

IN A STATION OF THE METRO

THE apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.

Thirdly, when I was in highschool and even sometimes in university, I used to place secret notes in and in-between library books. I'm not sure how the habit started or what inspired me to do something that was essentially so 'weird'...but that's what I'd sometimes do. I would often write cryptic things like: "I bet you dream in animation?" or "Would you like to?" or "Go and do it TODAY not tomorrow TODAY!". I realise this could have been a little impulsive if some deeply disturbed person happened upon one of my notes after fantasising about killing someone, but I took it on good faith, that nothing like that would happen. Anyhow, one day, a study-buddy of mine found one of my notes and it said "I'd like to get close enough to smell your hair. You're beautiful". I should mention at this point, that she was not feeling particularly beautiful or fragrant and had been incessantly whinging about a messy breakup and yet that silly note made her smile, look over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching her, smile again and secret the note in her pocket.

I guess my point is slow in coming...but here it is. Fragments of thoughts and stories; glimpses into people's lives is something just as beautiful to stumble across in the urban sprawl as something aesthetically pleasing.

Deepavali in Tooting

Om asato ma sadgamaya,
Tamaso ma jyotir gamaya,
Mrityor ma amritam gamaya.

Lead us from falsehood to truth; from Darkness to light; from Death to immortality and from Lethargy to Activity.

Contribution by Swami Dikshananda Saraswati

Tonight, half the neighbourhood seemed to be celebrating Diwali. I became used to the sounds of firecrackers as a little girl in Durban, where the festival is also celebrated. My earliest memory of this festival, is going to a friend's house to find it bedecked in lanterns, fairy lights and small flower-shaped candles floating on the fish pond. I remember thinking it was too early for Christmas, but enjoyed eating the home-made sweets and watching the various shrines decorated in flowers and incense. I remember hearing the names of the Hindu deities and finding them beautiful: Lakshmi, Durga, Vishnu, Shiva, Brahma, Mati Shakti and many more. I would sometimes string all the names together to try and emulate my friends that spoke Hindi, simply because I loved the sound.

Part of what makes an urban landscape beautiful, is diversity. Festivals, especially one as cheerful as a festival of light, lend a warmth to an otherwise hostile environment. It is not the only thing that makes a city bearable, by any means, but it gives a certain charm and familiarity to a place.

Something I do appreciate about living in a city, is light. It's true that the overabundance of light blocks out our view of the heavens, which is perhaps why we've tried to mirror the heavens with our zealous lighting of buildings, bridges and landmarks. However, light is something magical and it seems to transform even very ugly things. By day somewhere like Canary Wharf is something of an eyesore; glass and steel reflecting a heavy grey sky. By night, lit up by lights that refract off the glass and play on the waters of the Thames, it seems enchanting.

Likewise with Embankment, Bankside and South Bank. These places are just lovely at night. Sometimes, walking back from the Royal National Theatre, I'm reminded of what a beautiful city London can be and how the grotty Thames, so muddy and depressing in the daylight hours, seems calmed and soothed in the moonlight.

Now that I've finished writing this post, it's started to rain. The fireworks have ceased and the night is still. I can still smell a hint of sulphur on the air and the hear the odd Catherine Wheel, perhaps lit by some determined child unwilling to give in to the elements. I'll go through my own flat now, turning off all the lights and perhaps light some candles in the bath ^^

China Town In The Rain Taken Out of Focus

Yauatcha, London, Soho

YAUATCHA Bas 01web
Originally uploaded by oobie.

This restaurant is beautiful.

China Town Lanterns Against a Blue Sky