My sister took me to Haunch of Venison (which I still believe sounds like an extravagant cut of meat- "I'd like your finest haunch of venison please") around Green Park. We saw this exhibition by some guy who consecutively went on long continuous hikes around Britain. Most of his art work was writing on the walls and I noticed that everything seemed so ordered; from the neatly aligned stones on the floor to the actual order and composition of the words against the blank. He organised all his memories and all his experiences into letters and rocks and paintings. It made me think about how odd it is that we can select, collect and quantify all our intangible thoughts. And yet here my keyboard is rattling away.
We found macaroons and of course decided that we must eat them.
Soon the rain came and washed it all away.
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