Wednesday, 20 March 2013

Stone. Water. Reflection.

Less than half an hour from where I grew up, yet I didn't know Baddesley Clinton existed until I stumbled upon it on a country drive, in my early 20's.

Then I forgot it all over again.

Nearly thirty years since I last visited, I saw, by chance, a sign for Baddesley Clinton, as I drove with my mom, heading for lunch on her day out.

Walls and a moat that have been standing for hundreds of years. Seeing power rise and fall, seeing people come and go. Seeing money come and go.

Is there life in inanimate objects? Do buildings carry memory? These buildings certainly FEEL as if they do.

And the message I heard?

After the turmoil, this still remains. Stone. Water. Reflection.

A drake rises out of the moat and lands on the path beside us. The bookseller sets out his stall. We walk slowly, part way round the moat, and then back. It's far enough.

Stone. Water. Reflection.

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