This statue of a winged (Icarus) boy in a small gallery window in Barcelona is an odd thing, and I am not sure about the basket of apples for a brain. Nevertheless, what I like about this picture is all the other ghosted images in the window and in the reflection in the window, they all layer up until they begin to resemble the kind of super-imposed collage you can produce with real film (as opposed to a digital snapper) - and indeed the person holding the camera on the left us a ghosted image of me. It was a nice little gallery, though, or actually a salesroom, just tucked into a little corner behind the Cathedral and I will look out for again in a couple of weeks time. Here's another story song, this time from the very fine Karine Polwart (who lives in Pathhead near my Dad, my sisters and my good friends Gordon Munro, Alex Sharp and Davie Jack) - and if you ever get a chance to see her play do go. She is a fantastically original songwriter, I have all her albums and she she puts on a great show. This song though, matches the winged statue and the ghosts and though its about Sarajevo it could be about something that could happen in any war; I find myself drawn to the pathos and of the lines:
Caught between the air and the windless deep
You float like a lily flower
And you look just like you fell to earth to sleep
And you’re waiting for your waking hour.
And you look just like you fell to earth to sleep
And you’re waiting for your waking hour.
And I swear to God I saw an angel hand attend you
But that was just the dancing of the light...
