Soho old, Soho young
 
The park of Soho has some wonderful sculptures, all part of series to show us how we look at humanity.  They seem a mix of old and new as the timeless man touches the head of the child above.  He’s holding ont o a rope, a metaphor which has been in my head for a year whilst I write the Mary Blandy play.  Rope I have clung to to find the end to the story and I feel I’m getting closer.  After all every rope has an end.  Even the one in the photo appears to drift into the tree canopy overhead.  The leaves fall around the rope and crinkle in the sun at our feet.  Nothing is forever.  Especially the beauty of the man in the sculpture unless it is immortalised in this handy city park behind Oxford Street where the city bustle is ignored.  But then this beauty is not real.  Maybe that is how I look at humanity!
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Wednesday, 15 June 2011