from a spider’s web
Last week, a heavy fog descended on London and for two mornings, the city sparkled with bejewelled spider webs, each one glistening with dew. Our street looked like something out of Elizabeth Taylor’s jewellery box — hundreds of strings of diamonds and crystals hanging from tree branches and lamp posts and iron gates. As my friend Sas said, it’s like the spiders threw a party while we were sleeping. Everything felt hushed by the fog and the webs shimmered all morning, until the sun burned them off and I was reminded once again that nature truly is the most remarkable artist.
“The artist is a receptacle for emotions that come from all over the place: from the sky, from the earth, from a scrap of paper, from a passing shape, from a spider’s web.” –Pablo Picasso