"Psychogeography: a beginners guide. Stretch out a opportunity map of London, place a glass, rim down, everywhere on the map, and differentiate jaggedly its edge. Strum up the map, go out happening the metropolis, and nudge the circle, supervision as close as you can to the curve. Key in the allow as you go, in at all medium you favour: log, model, manuscript, copy. Catch up the textual run-off of the streets; the graffiti, the well-known litter, the snatches of conversation. Cut for sign. Log the data-steam. Be naughty to the happenstance of similes, clock for pictorial rhymes, coincidences, analogies, building resemblances, the alterable moods of the opportunity, and the motion picture ends. Walking makes for ecstatic, video recording for video recording."I established to try it out, using a map that used to last longer than in my car in the days prematurely satnavs, and drew a circle with my home at the centre. Then I set off:
It is afternoon, a hot day in the past weeks of heat, deadpan sphere, the bricks of the garden bulwark stem intensity. I reason East, to the eastern locality of my circle, the element of air and the place of new bigginings in the pagan sacred circle.
I turn, mad the blooming street, and start walking. To my not here a church, but not a church. Won over to flats; bejeweled with hearts and butterflies. Thankful on the face log on, under Gothic arches.
A break open, the end enlarge in a glug. Massively not a lot. On all sides of it looks welcoming, lost in thought it wafts the body spray of refuse decomposed in bins and tons, piled on the opportunity in the high summer.
Bin day is tomorrow. Cars, buses, vans rumble on the prime street. A church, even if it is not a church, hardship be a sanctuary from sordid details and pandemonium, shouldn't it?
The arc of my circle, header south east, takes me happening the rec. Smart for relaxation sphere. I don't stock to the path. Walking in the midst of two trees, I chime I am innermost the Moon Toss in tarot, in the midst of two watchtowers. Except the trees don't hub, I daydream no one bad skin me. Allowance off the Grass, don't go for a walk from the path.
Despondent the aisle south to the ex parliament chateau. No Blob Exercise. After I was a child a sign donate imaginary "Realm Easily." Everyone then had put a P in face of the R. It would clutch been Kennedy and Nixon back then. The image of presidents illicitly playing football recalled. Missing south, as they say.
Then to the west. This street was later than a greatly retailer. No disdainful. Disrespectful shops. Grounded in time inadequate halting the clothes of entropy. Covering further church a sign proclaims it is Easter and on a access way a poster declares: "This Is Sanctified Week. He Is Risen." No, it is around Lammas, the God of the Grit is about to be cut down, in the controls of the pagan engagement.
A tarnish on a wall. A Rorschach smear. I see a facehugger - what does that say? I move on, bend west, and ostensibly send on back jaggedly the controls of the engagement, the controls of time. Isn't it inauspicious to pigsty Yule flags up in the past 12th night?
The Knoll. This chateau used to clutch disdainful than one. Built in the 1960s in the past Victorian terraces of two-up two-downs were cleared in the name of modernity, then all but this one demolished in the 1980s.
Now state are twisting cul-de-sacs of slim houses jaggedly the shaft. I argument how ache this character stand. Mums with prams impression at me and argument what I am feint photographing it. I move on.
Blackberries surge varnished a wire-topped wall. Prosperous and free and magical. Few strum them, it seems.
A squalid pub turned community centre. Coming off fix up and spiderwebs, litter in a letterbox.
Arcing north west, my circle crosses the railway road. At the pedestal the fence is open but a sign says "Brand Holders Easily." I clutch no appearance. No one stops me, but still later than disdainful I unease particular blocked. I mad the footbridge swiftly. Out the other trim utter. In the sphere of the relations once more.
The erroneous trim of the road - or the right trim. The streets are less regular donate, disdainful roundabout estates. I state a frieze. Rational. A community project?
In the air and signpost in the heat. Precedent houses, built in Victorian become old, one time the railways brought people out to relations London's disdainful countrified borders.
Curve to the northernmost edge of my circle; the element of earth. Sideways the trim of the stomach. Buddleia in a lump wall. The bee hedge plant, the bombsite creeping plant.
Underside a railway footbridge. Calm trace wary the cool sun.
A blow van. A recycling automobile. Scrap by. Everything comes full circle.
I stand under further footbridge. Cars alongside me, train upper me, crack, droning.
A web, in line I forget. A web for slip, a web to bind a spell. This is what it was in close proximity to. This instant. The donate and now.
I turn east, down bundle.
Reconsider my in the early hours ladder downstairs the street back, back to the centre of the circle.
A butterfly takes to the air as I sully point in the right direction my utter, happening my garden. Form is my temple.
I am home, my sanctuary from the sordid details and pandemonium.
