from Red Dancers in Underland: A Deep Time Journey by Robert Macfarlane
Some context for the photo. I was on that same walk from home to pharmacy and back. Day whatever of the pandemic. (even typing that feels surreal, as I know it does for so many). I came to this rock at the edge of one of the big houses lining either side of the road and saw the little creature resting there. I didn't want to touch it because the virus is telling us don't. It looked brand new and looked as if it had been placed there deliberately. Don't feel moved or sad by it, the virus told me. It isn't real. So maybe the photo isn't about an emotional reaction to something keyed to create a sense of affection. Maybe the photo is about the spillage of space and time into one another. Or the way the spillage of space and time into one another during a pandemic upends all our usual anchors and keys.