We Make Choices But Are

I Have Had To Empty Two Family Homes During The Last Few Years - First, The House That Had Been My Grandmothers Since 1923, And Then My Own Country Home, Which We Had Lived In For Over Twenty Years.

If We Had Not Met, That Day, I Think I Would Have Imagined You Somehow.

The Photograph Is Concerned With The Power That The Past Has To Interfere With The Present: The Time Bomb In The Cupboard.

The Place Didn't Look The Same But It Felt The Same; Sensations Clutched And Transformed Me. I Stood Outside Some Concrete And Plate-glass Tower-block, Picked A Handful Of Eucalyptus Leaves From A Branch, Crushed Them In My Hand, Smelt, And Tears Came To My Eyes. Sixty-seven-year-old Claudia, On A Pavement Awash With Packaged American Matrons, Crying Not In Grief But In Wonder That Nothing Is Ever Lost, That Everything Can Be Retrieved, That A Lifetime Is Not Linear But Instant. That, Inside The Head, Everything Happens At Once.

It Seems To Me That Anyone Whose Library Consists Of A Kindle Lying On A Table Is Some Sort Of Bloodless Nerd.