An unexpected and rather beautiful email arrived this morning from my old friend Mike D, former Bauhaus fan and Belsize Park resident. Here's a little piece:
So it's a postcard although we're a long
way from a postbox - I'm not even sure which country
this is. Sat on the deck of a cruiser watching ice and
rock glide by in Tierra Del Fuego. Grey forbidding
waters which a seal pops his head out of between
dives, green trees stacked up cliffs that give way to
moss and then fists of stone buttressing vast
glaciers, alas with waterfalls surging out of their
blue hearts like sand from an hourglass.
Strange mix of boredom & rapture,banality and Zen.
Daytimes I queue in line for rice pudding and
eavesdrop on rounds of bridge ; evenings I watch the
moon gild the waters for us like a lantern held up by
the Gods as an albatross guides us past the wrecks.
'Nuff of my sonorous musing. It's probably just like
Norway anyway. I don't normally do this -the crew are
twentysomethings while the passengers are average 76
but I'm hitching a ride in a great-uncle's cabin from
Buenos Aires to near Santiago to visit Rod Palmer.
He's been writing a book on Chilean graffiti. Then
it's back to my veg garden on the Welsh border and
part-time in an antiquarian bookshop. I think last
time we wrote I was on my way to New Zealand -stayed
for a year and a half and it's lovely, but sometimes
lovely isn't enough.
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