We walked through Le Jardin de Tuileries, past its barren trees and green chairs, past its large pond where in the Summer you would find toy boats racing for victory. We walked to the Jardin des Plantes and somehow sneaked in (without realising) into its tropical greenhouse, and then proceeded to the Musee de l’Orangerie to see Monet’s Water Lilies. We entered the atrium and stood in awe and then, as we prepared to leave the exhibition, we entered into a second atrium which contained his other Water Lilies and we stood in total bewilderment.
Friday, 19 December 2014
Wednesday, 29 January 2014
To whom I owe the leaping delight
That quickens my senses in our wakingtime
And the rhythm that governs the repose of our sleepingtime,
The breathing in unison
Of lovers whose bodies smell of each other
Who think the same thoughts without need of speech
And babble the same speech without need of meaning.
No peevish winter wind shall chill
No sullen tropic sun shall wither
The roses in the rose-garden which is ours and ours only
But this dedication is for others to read:
These are private words addressed to you in public.