Idle Thoughts, the British Museum and Museum of London
Trying to find inspiration for a new piece, a beginning that catches me with character or emotion, and my idle thoughts lead me to recalling someone once said, a genius of course, that the road goes ever on. It does of course. On and on. A walk becomes a recollection, recollection a story, story a tale. Tales grow up and grow old, age for good and for bad, become history, myth, legend and folklore. Forever retold, reborn, heard anew. Many are forever forgot. Some hide in shadows, folds in the land and home to hedgerow, tree, spirit, sprite, goddess, worse. Quiet they whisper to those as pass unseen, send shivers up spine. Circles of stone, hill of fort and ruin of tower. The arch of a church. Iron portcullis of castles. There are some stories that find succour in gem and jewel, in the swords as drew red the blood, the shield as saved an ancient life. Beautifully crafted. Made. Loved. Held in hand, whirl and whorl a wonder to behold. Treasures that are indeed treasured. A magic within that is felt by all who come close. On and on a road the tales do travel, items plundered, looted, lost and found; memories of a life before, of a time before, when magic was real and heroes walked the land. So it is with all things, now and then, life is a tale forever told, there never really being a beginning. And so it is I come to think of two places I truly love, where the memories, tales, legends and more are real, a magic felt. They were the last places I went to before the first lockdown for Covid-19; a brave day out for a reclusive man.
So I think, come the end of this lockdown and having hopefully found another beginning on the road that becomes a story, I will be making my way back to the British Museum and Museum of London to thoroughly immerse myself in some of the magic that is.
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