Under the Red Sky was Bob Dylan’s 27th studio album. With its ominous title and deceptively simple songs it captured my imagination from the first time I heard it. It struck me today that I was a little younger than my eldest child when it was released; he is thirteen next month.
As summer’s end appears on the horizon the knowledge that I will soon be back in Europe becomes more tantalizing with each day that passes. The prospect of a trip back home has had me thinking about family and about an old Roman hero by the name of Aeneas.
I happened to be at the Raven Spa last evening. It’s a Thai spa in a cool part of town and I’d been meaning to visit for a while. Exquisitely fashioned, it transports you to a different time and space, one of old and quiet beauty.
As temperatures rise to an uncomfortable pitch in the height of summer here in LA, I often find myself slipping backwards through the humidity to the first months of our American adventure and the electric heat of that Manhattan summer.
We took a drive up the Pacific Coast Highway to Malibu a couple of nights ago; heading out into the hazy traffic of an LA summer evening…. I think there’s something about the nature of the American West that alters our understanding of the world and our place within it. Whether it’s ultimately positive or negative I really couldn’t say.
Eight years of memories and experiences - like looking though a kaleidoscope. The family who moved from London to Manhattan is a far away remembrance and yet it feels like only yesterday that we arrived in the searing heat of a New York summer. The elusive ghost of time past that slips away when one tries to fix upon it.
