Welcome to the attic of my mind. Mind the stairs, click the light on and have a rummage around my thoughts on writing, the art of everything second-hand, the natural world, music . . . just about everything. Probably not much about sport.
Saturday, 29 December 2012
Building No 11
Actually, more public space No 1. But I think I'll lump it into the buildings-sub-Hothouse blog.
Welcome to the South of France where the sun always shines on charming ancient honey-coloured buildings, and people skip hand in hand through lavender fields with strings of onions, pastis, Breton shirts and bicycles . . . hm. There are plenty of spaces like the one above too, with and without jauntily placed cardboard box.
How could you make a area of tranquil repose anymore repugnant. A dog carcass perhaps, or a few old shoes lying around as if their owners sat here too long and became deranged, wandering the streets in their socks, howling for the bar to be open.
Why not a couple of climbing roses against the wall to hide the sinister dark grey patches, or an elegant tree to provide shelter from the summer heat.
What are the two blue railings for? Bicycles I suppose. Or perhaps to lean against while you stare incredulously at this piece of once pink and pale orange tiled nothing. Nice colour choice for the railings though, reminiscent of the afore mentioned lavender fields.
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