I long to escape the city, the rented terraced house, the 9-5 job that keeps devouring my time even as I die of cancer… a small cottage by the sea, somewhere to return to the source, to die in peace.
That is so sad, Martin. So many lives have been stifled and stunted by this industrial work-camp world. I hope you find the fresh air and the peace that we all ought to be able to experience.
Thanks Paul. I’ve not had a bad life. In fact, even though it has been diminished since the lockdowns I’ve enjoyed a degree of freedom many would envy - living abroad, working for myself for many years. Only now do I feel the walls closing in, the future fading. I was diagnosed with mesothelioma (cancer caused by asbestos) just after Christmas. I could give up the job I suppose - but I have a wife and children to provide for and it feels a selfish thing to do. Though my time is running out at least I am near fields and trees and can escape briefly each day to walk the dog and wonder what it all means. Small things give great consolation in dark times.
Immersed myself into the writing and the added surprise of it being a wonderful photographic essay. I read re-read and understood. Thank you. I’ve often wondered at rivers and brooks which even though they are often forced underground in cities still maintain their timeless journey and they still form the names of places such as Ilford Romford etc and dipping one’s feet into them one can feel
Thanks for the journey … nice to put a geography/location to the backdrop of your “A Call for Resistance” video.
“But no, it has merely gone underground, like the heretical and dissident organic radical philosophy, its flow hidden from view but always present, even when the surface is dry.” — Speaking of hidden, the “200-metre 20-arch bridge” in Sommières that you mentioned, wasn't even close to what pictures show. Explanation? It turns out that, according to Wikipedia, only seven of the arches are visible “the others lie beneath the town where they act as cellars”. Surely, it's the Vidourle of bridges!
Beautiful post and photos, thank you - instant happy flashbacks to when we holidayed there decades ago and explored the region covering the places you mention. Stunning scenery and Sauve was a step back in time. Thank you for the memories.
That was lovely, Paul. I have the same sort of relationship with the meandering Wappinger Creek that flows into the Hudson River through my home county of Dutchess. There are no beautiful ancient Roman villages or battlements hugging its winding path, as the Dutch and English and American interlopers took care to demolish whatever biodegradable habitats the Wappingers left in their ethnically cleansed wake.
Un fleuve, from Source to Sea growing in bright, sparkling light as it moves in either direction, spreading its truth unnoticed. Superb analogy Paul, thank you!
From the sheer spiritual peace and essence within those final photos, I am thinking we probably had similar reasons for withdrawing from the world into rural France. My part not called la France profonde for nothing...
I’ve cycled there. Extraordinarily beautiful. And I appreciate the intent of the post. I’m a novelist. I sympathize with your reverence. But you did not step into the same river twice. That’s an ontological lie. I get it. As a literary device. But you cheated your intent. I’m also a poet. So I give a lot of latitude. But the post - in the context of all that currently is - deflates itself. I’m sorry I don’t mean to be a prick. But you had me then lost me in this one. Won’t stop me from enjoying your talent going forward.
I long to escape the city, the rented terraced house, the 9-5 job that keeps devouring my time even as I die of cancer… a small cottage by the sea, somewhere to return to the source, to die in peace.
That is so sad, Martin. So many lives have been stifled and stunted by this industrial work-camp world. I hope you find the fresh air and the peace that we all ought to be able to experience.
Thanks Paul. I’ve not had a bad life. In fact, even though it has been diminished since the lockdowns I’ve enjoyed a degree of freedom many would envy - living abroad, working for myself for many years. Only now do I feel the walls closing in, the future fading. I was diagnosed with mesothelioma (cancer caused by asbestos) just after Christmas. I could give up the job I suppose - but I have a wife and children to provide for and it feels a selfish thing to do. Though my time is running out at least I am near fields and trees and can escape briefly each day to walk the dog and wonder what it all means. Small things give great consolation in dark times.
Immersed myself into the writing and the added surprise of it being a wonderful photographic essay. I read re-read and understood. Thank you. I’ve often wondered at rivers and brooks which even though they are often forced underground in cities still maintain their timeless journey and they still form the names of places such as Ilford Romford etc and dipping one’s feet into them one can feel
Thanks for the journey … nice to put a geography/location to the backdrop of your “A Call for Resistance” video.
“But no, it has merely gone underground, like the heretical and dissident organic radical philosophy, its flow hidden from view but always present, even when the surface is dry.” — Speaking of hidden, the “200-metre 20-arch bridge” in Sommières that you mentioned, wasn't even close to what pictures show. Explanation? It turns out that, according to Wikipedia, only seven of the arches are visible “the others lie beneath the town where they act as cellars”. Surely, it's the Vidourle of bridges!
Good observation. It also explains, of course, why the town is so prone to flooding...
Exactly!
Fantastic pictures and story.
Thanks.
I really enjoyed this. Excellent.
Thanks Ken.
Beautiful post and photos, thank you - instant happy flashbacks to when we holidayed there decades ago and explored the region covering the places you mention. Stunning scenery and Sauve was a step back in time. Thank you for the memories.
Beautifully written and sensitively felt. A nice metaphor, too!
Delightful piece. Thank you.
That was lovely, Paul. I have the same sort of relationship with the meandering Wappinger Creek that flows into the Hudson River through my home county of Dutchess. There are no beautiful ancient Roman villages or battlements hugging its winding path, as the Dutch and English and American interlopers took care to demolish whatever biodegradable habitats the Wappingers left in their ethnically cleansed wake.
http://www.biffogram.com/indian-winter
Un fleuve, from Source to Sea growing in bright, sparkling light as it moves in either direction, spreading its truth unnoticed. Superb analogy Paul, thank you!
From the sheer spiritual peace and essence within those final photos, I am thinking we probably had similar reasons for withdrawing from the world into rural France. My part not called la France profonde for nothing...
Yes, sans doute...
I’ve cycled there. Extraordinarily beautiful. And I appreciate the intent of the post. I’m a novelist. I sympathize with your reverence. But you did not step into the same river twice. That’s an ontological lie. I get it. As a literary device. But you cheated your intent. I’m also a poet. So I give a lot of latitude. But the post - in the context of all that currently is - deflates itself. I’m sorry I don’t mean to be a prick. But you had me then lost me in this one. Won’t stop me from enjoying your talent going forward.