postcard from Bloomsbury

Creatures of habit, we return to old haunts: Marchmont Street, the curve of Cartwright Gardens and this tiny flat, mezes near the British Museum last night. This morning, Sagarika Sundaram’s ravishing creations at the Alison Jacques Gallery. Layers of felted wool, some areas spliced open, long threads on some pieces begging to held and followed. They made my own hands twitchy to make something. Tonight, a play. Tomorrow night, a play. Right now? Rain on the huge plane trees. Ombra mai fu. xxx