An afternoon at the Museum of Water

It’s been a while since she came to visit but my lovely little cousin Maddie came to London yesterday for a few days. Excited about having a good excuse to go and do something cultural before she indulges in a day of shopping while I am at work on Monday, I decided to take her to Somerset House, one of my favourite locations in London.

Not only is Somerset House beautiful in its own right but it also always has an exhibition that is both interesting and unconventional. We went for some quick nosh at Tom’s Deli before heading in to see the exhibition I had been dying to see for weeks: “The Museum of Water” by Amy Sharrocks.

Dreams

The fading light makes it difficult to see. As my eyes adjust to the darkness I can make out trees in the distance; can hear birds singing, the wind rushing through the grass. It smells of fresh air, countryside, flowers and water. A few tender, careful steps forward and I can hear the stream rushing by. Trying to take it all in, figuring out where I am. And what I am doing here.

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How do you write a letter when there is no way to accurately describe your thoughts and feelings? When every word, every sentence does not feel right, feels inappropriate or just not good enough?