The streets of London are tough. No show at the Globe (midnight matinee this weekend, though), Tate Modern closes at six (barely made it to the fourth floor), later cats and dogs on and off between banks.
But true tragedies happen in moments like this. When it is not dark yet, still grey as hell on the Richter scale, and the rain sets in.
A pigeon lying lifeless next to a bench where I took a rest and got wet. Another one coming around, obviously in love, trying to make love, walking around in circles which get larger and larger. But the heart is still beating, the little head moves almost invisibly, slightly up and down. I love you anyway!
I stood up and walked away, leaving the free news I had sat on behind. This happened somewhere between St Paul’s (left) and another place (right), close to large-scale excavations of Roman ruins found recently.
— 5 July 2011 (火)