The web page of the Albion Beatnik Bookstore in Oxford, now closed (as usual) for business: muses and misspills on books, jazz, poetry, stuff like false flags and smoke screen: was randomly decrepit and proven to be more than neo-bankrupt: it was so analogue it was anal and now deceased.
I spent the night on the Round Hill at Wittenham Clumps to catch sunrise, fortified by a fire, tea, and the best company. Paul Nash described the view from The Clumps as “a beautiful legendary country haunted by old gods long forgotten,” in fact some of the earliest of English settlement. After much anticipation – and with huge and dramatic change in the sky’s colouring, also the clouds’ – the sun began to emerge at about 4:45am. Very quickly it was exultant. My mobile phone bore witness: the modern, transient and insufficient tells of the earth’s foundation and vastness.