Occasionally, when I am just drifting off to sleep, or while I am in savansa at yoga class, I have a sudden flash from my memory. It’s a sensory flash, like a living photograph.
Lately those flashes have been of London, of my home around Maida Vale,
and of the color of the sky and the light there.
Biddulph Road in Maida Vale. The light took what space it could between the cloudy expanse of days and made the most of it, especially in the short days of winter.
