Crossing the Lancashire-Yorkshire border
when I leave the station
it’s the familiarity that drapes
a warm cloak around my shoulders
against the grey September chill.
I love this photograph of Deansgate, Manchester, taken during a heavy rainstorm this August, 2019.
Taken from Deansgate Station, it has been likened to a Lowry painting.
It was taken by Simon Buckley, an artist whose photographs I discovered in his blog Not Quite Light, featuring photographs of the older, northern parts of the city that I love when, well, it was not quite light.
His blog led me to his website, where you can view and purchase copies of his prints:
On the evening of this longest day, 2014.
Everything still looks the same, but a line has been crossed.
Any change, any shift, will for a while be imperceptible. But things, as always happens, will gradually gather momentum until all is transformed.
“Time and tide wait for no man,” my father used to say.
They didn’t wait for him. He never attempted to outrun, or withstand. Once you reach a certain age, there is an air of inevitability about things. But there is no great hurry. We can live riding the rhythms of seasons, of tides.
The sun begins to set, it does not appear any different to the way it set last night, or the night before. But a person knows. That is our curse. But it is also a blessing.
Today has been a good day, shared with family and friends, and the things that count.
In the morning the rising sun will place another bead…
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