The margins between the city and the country. Some just end up here; for others it is a destination filled with serious intent and ambition.
Karl Hyde embraces these margins on his debut album: “edgelands where city meets scrub, where ragged ponies grazed annexed fields and the air smells chemical.”
This edgeland is not a “Ballardian” zone. It is the “green wedge”. The lungs of the city. Being here necessitates a daily psycho-geographic trip back to the inner sanctum. Back to the old world.
This is the start of one such trip.
In my head I'm in the Shinkansen.
"Dreams Never End"
the humanness of repetition
45 minutes of music and reading. And it's raining. If only the train was empty.
walking+listening (Melvyn Bragg & co. discuss Social Darwinism)