Kennington Park. 30.9.25
How to explain the gulf I feel between myself & the children I encounter in the park… Not that they talk to me or anything, but I just see them playing and remember what it was like to be small/ to be their age, and feel like crying. Near-blinded by the sun that sets alight the blades of grass, so green, making a sea with their shadows. And I remember the endlessness of warm, autumn evenings, the endlessness of beginnings. The church rings 17:00pm.
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Sometime in early October, on a Monday
The lights are turning on one by one at the building site. Oval Village is coming to life. Need to take footage at night. Runners running in the gym, running into jet black & their own bodies. The moon hangs discus-like, huge, above the site offices. As I turned around the bend of freshly opened pathway, I mistook the moonlight for a site-strobe - its power of white, luminous strength I’d attributed to electricity. The evening is warm and metallic, like dampness on a hard surface, as if the buildings themselves were sweating, pressing, sculpting, becoming the air.
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Came back from this night-walk with the moon in my eyes. It’s a supermoon tonight, the neighbour upstairs told me as we came in the door together. I took a walk around OV, taking pics but I hardly had any frames left. The moon grew as I looked at it, bleeding outwards from the wind that sprung tears from my eyes, and I saw the sun moving across its rocky surface, 2 craters, age spots appearing in the clear lens of the night, they made a shape of two figures, lovers curling or reaching towards each other in water- the water of my tears- and I watched the dance from below a glass-bottom pool. The Gas Works is alive- on life support. It’s scary. Numbers, counting down at the crossing, spinning around each other, in a window. Lone figures; man, still as a tree, woman walks home singing to herself. One of the young foxes greets me at the entrance to the estate; timid, but unafraid.
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