I walk a familiar path to the local shops and railway station. For many years I have made this journey to and fro, passing by houses and flats where occupants move out and new ones move in; excited to explore their new environment. Parents with pushchairs, kids on scooters, runners, commuters, dogs and their owners all meander along, staring ahead to their journey’s destination or like me exploring the surroundings with their eyes (or in case of a dog, snuffling every possible surface and crevice).
Red camellias have dropped onto the footpath from an overhanging bush, looking melancholy and poetic. Moved about by the wind and altered by the tread of feet, sun and rain they will decompose over time and fade into nothingness, although leaving a trace in my memory that I try to capture in an art work. Every year they bloom and fall and every year I notice them, touched by their presence and not sure why they should affect me so much.
