Rocket

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The afternoon was three hours of my life I will never get back again. If I wanted Brighton in the high season, I would go to Brighton in the high season.

So let’s only remember the morning.

The canopied stones gave us room to breathe and rest, to try to unpick the patterns of wall and passage way. Purists might boggle at the reconstructions, but these did allow us to see the design, and the fragile original carvings would soon have wasted and dwindled away without shelter. Even with the concrete intrusions, the ruin felt free of our time:  impassive.

Then the cave, undulant of ceiling, with stout stalagmites and a beautiful section preserved. (I turned the camera off auto and personally adjusted the shutter speed. See how I am coming along.) In the coolth one could value the troglodyte life, when in Britain cave dwellings seem merely an exaggeration of the climate’s dank dark misery.

And lastly the windy platform where scattered slabs and columns and paving spoke of three great cultures – only we have not yet learned the words.

We crushed a thousand tufts of wild rocket underfoot, and their scent rose pungently into the sunny air.

11th November – the gallery

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2 responses »

  1. Glad you turned the camera off auto : adjusting the shutter speed gives time to think about exposure options …
    (and if the meter is being “fooled” by a tricky subject …) 🎥😀

    • I don’t like flash so had to twiddle the camera a bit in the dark. But mostly there was no time for photographic experiments as our party was galloped onwards, and I settled for ‘auto’ and looking for a gap between the other tourists.

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