Monday, 2 February 2009
The barricade of epitaphs and frosted trees
made certain sound did not dare enter
and the bold whispers which did penetrate
found their fate
in the snow
below which lay the dead.
The city, which I (only last week) thought so uninspiring in the days between Autumn and Spring, has had all its blemishes and flaws swept under the carpet in the course of 24 hours. Aided by gusts of cold, Vodka-swigging wind from Russia, London has transformed into the beautiful city it was intended to be. Here's hoping for more cold fronts from Russia the benevolent.