March Of The Barbarians*.

* Of course, we are talking about these Barbarians. Any resemblance to actual persons is purely coincidental.

Speeding Up (Slowly).

Spring, Summer, Autumn And Spring Again.

(And all in a single day.)

Belly Up.

With a fantastic sunny spell lasting already more than a week and a silly but optimistic simulated sandy beach on the riverfront, London is abuzz. Drinks al-fresco, a giant fox, in-promptu photo shoots and clouds of pollen, the parks in sinking mode and parkour in the concrete forest of the South Bank. Even an inflatable cow has landed belly up on the green. Tasty stuff.

I'm Afraid Not.

Lately I've been seeing this question written all over the place. Humming a tune and it fills in the lyrics, closing my eyes and it pops up in Neon lights. At first I thought it was a mirage but now I hold indisputable evidence (with innocent bystanders and their legs as witnesses).

So it is real. That's no big surprise of course but funnily enough it led to a series of new questions. Are we at least getting there? I suppose we are getting somewhere but is it there? Is it close? Where is "there" in the first place?

Silly huh? I thought so too.

Two Behind Bars.